The Strangest Kind
by icybluegoddessfarie
Summary: Sam/Dean or Dean/Sam. Dean Winchester and his father are called to an old friend's house, where Dean meets Sam Hawk. They team up together as his father investigates Azazel on his own. What is Sam hiding from Dean, other than an insane attraction? R&R!
1. Chapter 1: A Home for the Inevitable

**Chapter One: A Home for the Inevitable**

After a hunt in Nebraska, a multiple salt-and-burn haunting, his Dad received a call. By the look on John Winchester's face at the end of said call, Dean wondered if he was going to be sent on another hunt by himself while his Dad researched their number one enemy: Azazel. There was just something that went unnervingly cold in the man's eyes, staring out at the empty road as if it were the cause of all his problems that triggered that thought process in Dean.

So he was surprised when his father, after a few moments of silence, said, "We're heading to see an old friend in Jasper,"

"Where's that? And why the sudden detour?" Dean was itching to turn his music back on, but he wanted to know more about this 'friend' his Dad had never let him meet before.

"Indiana, and I don't really know yet either," John sighed, "But I doubt its anything good, considering she called us,"

"She?" Oo, now Dean was genuinely curious. Did 'saint' John have some previous conquest? It was almost too unrealistic to believe.

"Don't get all bent out of shape, well…" John slid his eyes playfully over to his son for a moment, "Any more than you already are,"

"Ha ha. Really. I'm all smiley on the inside."

"She's just a friend that I haven't talked to since near the time I first started hunting," John said, "Her name's Amelia, Amelia Hawk."

"Amelia, huh?"

"Yeah, most of the time we just called her Mel, though,"

"She around your age?" Dean wondered aloud.

"Don't you go tryn' to set me up, boy," John snapped laughingly, "She's already married. Has been for longer than you were alive,"

"Damn. You know I've been hoping to get you dating again, trying really hard and all," Dean looked crest fallen, and dodged the slap on the shoulder that his dad nearly landed.

"Turn the radio back on, cupid phony," John shook his head, setting his course to Jasper, Indiana and relaxing under the 'soothing' notes of Metallica, Enter Sandman.

XXXXXX

It was the dusk of the second day they set out, Thursday, when they reached 590 Forest Lane in Jasper. The one-story home was apart of a small tan painted neighborhood that barely took a second glance at their '67 Impala. Dean took two seconds to assess the house, picture-perfect in a back country sort of way, and said:

"A hunter lives _here_?"

"Guess so," John responded. "I think the property is in the family or something."

"Still kinda weird," Dean shrugged into his leather jacket, mindful of the chill of early winter evening.

John ignored the pang in his heart at that comment. Of course this was strange for Dean; John had never had any kind of home for him since he was just turning four. He really was going to some kind of special hell for taking away his son's life.

They walked up the cement pathway to the entryway, taking moment to find the ringing button. At the ring of the doorbell, a voice came over the intercom to their right.

"Yes, who is it?" a soft female voice said.

"Its John, you called two days ago?" John answered, hoping that they had the right address.

"John! I wasn't expecting you so soon. Glad that you could make it." The door clicked in front of them. "Come in, it's unlocked now,"

They walked in and down the hallway, the warm heat enveloping them and making Dean shiver in content. The house was probably as homey as he had ever seen, lots of hanging pictures from many generations, faded rugs on the dark wood floors, craved wood archways and open, welcoming spaces.

The living room was the first room on their left. A woman with black hair that went down to her mid back with light olive skin in a white night gown lay propped up on the loveseat, a green woven blanket covering her legs and stomach. She smiled brightly at them as they moved toward her, and she gestured for them to sit at the couch across from her.

"John, it's been so long," She announced, glancing over at Dean, "And who is this handsome man?"

"This is my son, Dean," John smiled proudly as Amelia admired his son.

"Oh, I remember you saying something about a four year old you had at Missouri's," Amelia nodded in recognition. "I'd have to say he's grown up to be better looking than you ever were,"

"I'm sure that he agrees with you there," John rolled his eyes as Dean puffed up his chest in mock macho pride.

"You lookin' for a good time, sugar?" Dean waggled his eyebrows in the spirit of playfulness.

"If only I could take you up on that offer," Amelia laughed at his antics, only half kidding. A sadness over took her features, and being people readers by nature, Dean and John immediately noticed.

"I'm sorry that I didn't call just for some good company," she began, "But you probably already guessed that…"

"What do you need?" John prompted.

XXXXX

Sam drove the Ford truck down one of the back roads to his house. He had not been gone longer than a day, leaving at three am to return in time to make dinner and fix up his mother's night medicine.

Now, to say that he was usually in a happy mood after a good hunt was pushing it, because more often than not it involved a few deaths and teary-eyed people left behind a little more than paranoid for finding out the 'truth' about the real world. But when a hunt went as bad as this one…

He figured that his bad luck was going to follow him home one day and find a way to hurt his mother more than she already was. He knew that it was a pessimistic attitude, but he had tripped at just the right moment to send himself sprawling _backwards down the stairs_ and miss his shot completely. He spent the rest of the day searching for the fast little midget of a monster that liked to steal things from people…mainly their appendages. He was so tired that he had even forgotten the name of the tiny bastard that he had salted and burned almost two hundred and fifty miles ago.

He put the annoying animal out of his mind as he pulled up to his street. Sam was weary and welcomed the sight of his home.

He did a double take at the sight of a black Chevy in the driveway. He tucked a gun in the waist of his jeans and cursed the rain that had started not ten minutes ago. It was still pouring. He ignored the water clinging to his shirt and silently opened the door, hoping to catch whoever – or whatever – it was in the act and shoot the thing to high hell.

Upon entering, he found soft conversation and his mother's easy voice among the deeper tones involved. So, they had guests. Invited guests, he judged, looking at the untriggered alarm system on the wall. He untucked his shirt to hide the gun behind his back at his waist, and strolled in.

"Hello?" He questioned as he walked into the living room and saw all three persons there jump. He smiled slightly. "What's going on here?" He directed the question to his mother.

"Oh, hi Sam. You finished already? That was quick," Their almost identical hazel eyes locked as he tried to assess what was happening, then he turned his gaze to the other two in the room. The older of the two had darker hair, trimmed very short around his face and ears, with deep brown eyes and a grisly five o'clock shadow growing on his cheeks and chin. His skin was dark and he looked to be even older than his mother, with a piercing gaze to match. The other, probably not two years older than himself, was green eyed and had even shorter, almost military style cut dirty blond hair and handsome sharp features with a clean shaven face. His eyes were just as intense, staring at Sam as if he were a car and judging if he was worth the ride.

Sam smiled a little wider. They were hunters, he could tell. "Who are they?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. This is John and his son Dean Winchester." Amelia explained, "This is my son, Sam,"

"Nice to meet you," Sam inclined his head, and John nodded back.

"They were the ones I was telling you about," Amelia ventured further, and Sam's eyes cut back to her, his stare wariness personified.

"I thought that we were going to be waiting a little longer before we called," Sam said, not even attempting to keep his tone light. By the expression on his mother's face, he could tell that she had accomplished what she wanted.

"I didn't know that they would be here so quickly," she offered weakly, followed up by a cough that just didn't relent for a good minute or so. Sam was by her side instantly, his bad mood gone in the face of his concern.

"How long have you been up?" He asked softly.

"About four hours," She blinked slowly.

"I'll take you back to your room then, and bring your dinner later," Sam said, lifting her up in his arms like she was weightless. Amelia did look a little worse for wear, though, with frail limbs and a pale face. "I'll be back in a minute," Sam said as he passed John and Dean, who watched with curious eyes.

Sam walked down the hall and placed Amelia on her bed. It was an adjustable one set up in front of a TV and beside a few diagnostics machines that the nurses used when they came to check on her. Sam stared at those a moment before saying,

"Mom…the Winchesters?" his tone was carefully even.

"John was the only one who had a son about your age and said that he was willing," Amelia sighed, putting her bed in a sit-up position.

"You know that I can hunt just as easily on my own, I've practically been doing that for a year and a half." Sam breathed, and whispered, "What if they find out? They're kind of infamous for shooting first and asking questions later,"

"Don't tell them until you're ready then, but you will need to tell them. They are both knowledgeable and well-equipped hunters; I just want you to have somebody you can rely on that knows about your lifestyle." Amelia smiled softly.

"There's Ellen and Jo," Sam pointed out.

"I was going for someone more your age and male if I could help it," Amelia laughed slightly, "Jo can't hunt without her mother there, Ellen wouldn't allow it, and you need someone at your side for those more difficult hunts,"

Sam nodded depressively. He was trying not to think about the real reason that she had called the Winchesters there to the house in the first place, why she was intent on making these arrangements.

"They've already agreed, haven't they?" Sam sighed.

"They said that they would try it out for a few hunts. John wants someone to travel with Dean while he goes off on his own to do a few things that he won't talk about, so if you're 'good' enough, I think they want this to work out as much as I do," Amelia said.

"Alright," Sam closed his eyes and composed himself; he had guests to deal with, possibly new partners. Didn't want to give off the wrong impression. That would go against one of his mother's last wishes.

XXXXXXXXXX

He walked back into the living room with a new shirt and pants on, foregoing his wet ensemble. Dean was laid back on the couch, gazing every which way at nothing in particular. John had stood up and was skimming a book from their library, an old tome on the occult that focused on demons. Sam felt strange in their presence, trying to surmise if he would really follow them after…well, after he had to leave.

"You two want anything to drink?" he asked.

"Sure," Dean grinned roguishly, "if you have beer,"

Sam nodded and looked to John, who said he would have the same. After retrieving the cans from the fridge and tossing them to the two, he asked if they had eaten anything for dinner yet.

"We didn't get a chance to stop," John admitted.

"Would you like lasagna? I make too much for just two people anyway," he offered back.

"That sounds great," Dean enthused, mouth watering at the chance for home cooked food. Especially Sam home cooked.

_Wrong thought to have in your head, jackass,_ He berated himself.

About an hour later, after Amelia went to bed, they all sat at the table and ate dinner. They were quiet for the most part, not really sure what to say to one another.

"Is Mel sick?" John asked bluntly, wondering why his old friend looked so weak.

Sam nodded, keeping his face blank, "Lung cancer,"

"Oh…can they do anything for it?" Dean asked helplessly. Doctors were supposed to be smart and cocky, able to pull amazing feats out of their asses by the way he remembered them acting on his short trips to the hospital.

Sam looked into Dean's green eyes, for the first time, and seemed to read him like the summary on the back of a novel. Dean almost wanted to ask what he saw there.

"The lungs are basically inoperable in any given case. We've tried chemo three times, but it didn't respond." Sam sounded like he was reading a textbook; he was so used to it. The disease was eating her alive, and he had come to terms that nothing could be done; there was nothing _he_ could do about it.

John looked down the hall to Amelia's doorway, eyes sad and a longing to go and be with her. Then he seemed to realize something.

"Where is Josh?" he asked.

Sam's eyes cut over to John, his hand gripping the table as if he were going to rip a chunk off from it. He caught the startled expression on John's face quickly, and knew that he couldn't possibly have known about what had happened. His mother wasn't exactly open with the information with friends she had had for years, why would she have told John?

"Sorry," Sam shook his head. "He left sometime when I was two. I tried to contact _him_ when this first started, but he didn't seem to care." Sam breathed deeply, covering his wounded emotions with ease once the initial shock had left him.

John's eyebrows furrowed and his eyes darkened. "That son of a bitch," He couldn't imagine leaving someone like Amelia, especially with a son.

"Pretty much what I said, with a few other choice words," Sam shook his head, and began to clear the table. The empty plates were washed in silence, no one knowing really what to say or do.

"Are you staying here for the night?" Sam broke the ice.

"No, we booked a motel on the way in," Dean answered, smiling lightly.

"Are you coming back in the morning? I think I found a new hunt," Sam said. If they were going to do this together, they might as well get it started.

"Sure, how's ten sound?" Dean suggested.

"Dean…" His father ground out.

"What? You can't blame a guy for trying to sleep in." Dean huffed.

Sam laughed. "No, that's perfect. I have to take care of a few things anyway,"

Dean did a silent cheer in his head, dancing like a player after a football touchdown. One look from his father changed that. Hunt or not, John was not going to indulge the desire to get more than twelve hours of sleep at once.

Sam bid them goodnight and checked on his mother, who was sleeping peacefully on a light medication. He pulled off his shirt and crept into bed soon after.

XXXXXXXXX

He woke up at six am, just the same as every other morning. He went for his jog, coming back at around six forty-five and ate breakfast. A shower and some light reading later, and it was time to wake Amelia at eight o'clock.

Sam had the pills in small lid with a cup of water in his hand as he watched her drift from sleep. She smiled brightly as he said good morning, but frowned at the sight of the medicine.

"I'm not feeling like it today, Sam," Amelia said, pushing his hand away.

"Mom…" he said, worried.

"The medication makes me more weak and incoherent than usual, I'd rather deal with the pain than that," she sighed.

Sam looked down for a moment, weighing his next suggestion carefully.

"I've…been practicing," he said. "I could take the pain away for a while,"

Amelia studied his features; she knew how much he was offering of himself. It was a big step toward accepting himself, accepting his heritage, and she was not going to waste it. She nodded, and he took her hand.

A rush of relief filled her, and her chest felt lighter. It was like the pain meds, but the grogginess and nausea weren't there. Amelia could not believe how different everything seemed when pain did not underline every move she made, or every breath she took. She smiled brilliantly at Sam, her wonderful and over protective son.

"You are getting better," She complimented, cupping his cheek. "So…"

"So?" Sam repeated, questioning.

"What did you think of them?" Amelia went straight to the point.

"I'm not sure yet. There is a hunt near here, about ninety miles west; we're going after it together," Sam relented.

"Show them what a Hawk can do Sam," she smiled proudly, "You're a natural,"

Sam smiled back, "I'll do my best to impress,"

"Who? John or his son?" Amelia teased knowingly.

"Both," Sam laughed. So _that_ was the other reason for choosing a guy around his age to hunt with…

XXXXXXXXXX

Dean and John arrived ten o'clock sharp, prepared and restocked on bullets and medical supplies.

A white van was already parked in the driveway when they pulled in and parked beside it. They saw two nurses inside at the end of the hallway, talking to Sam.

"She said that she didn't want anymore meds, and I'm going to back her decision. Don't try to sneak any into her food or IV; she'll be pissed once she finds out." He told the two hospice women, and they nodded. Sam's eyes found Dean at the door.

"You two ready?" He asked, picking up the bag at his feet.

"Yeah, where are we going?" John asked.

"Jamestown, just west of here. Tell you more on the way."

XXXXXXXXXX

To say that the job of a hunter was riddled with 'usual' occurrences would be ludicrous in itself, but even a horde of vampires was pushing it for a 'normal' day's work. They were exceedingly lucky that the town was at the ass end of any important civilization, otherwise the internet would have been buzzing with reports of 'vampires r among us' shit and cult followings of Anne Rice and Stephanie Meyer would have been invading Jamestown.

So, yeah, a quiet town in the middle of nowhere could be a good thing every once in a while, especially if they weren't secretly cannibals or demonically possessed.

Sam had followed the Impala on a motorcycle, tossing his bag in their trunk with consent. He had smirked at the raised eyebrow Dean offered him and said that there was 'nothing like the open air to clear your thoughts'.

Dean, riding shotgun with the window down, was inclined to agree with him.

The hunt went well with the three of them, to say the least. Both John and Dean had watched Sam like scientists, analyzing his moves and words and how he handled himself. Dean in particular was watching his body, but caught himself often and blamed the famous Winchester hormones to the almost magnetic force that pulled his eyes to Sam's eyes or ass…or chest when his shirt sometimes mysteriously disappeared.

Those assets were the last thing on Dean's mind, however, when they were facing the pack of bloodsuckers. Sam was an amazing fighter, focused and almost frigid in his blows and slices. He knew where to hit and could even anticipate half the time how his enemy was going to move. By the time the final headless corpse fell, Dean was sure that he was going to be hunting alongside Sam Hawk, for as long as he could keep him.

And by the way that Sam was smiling back at him; he hoped that the lanky brunette felt the same.

XXXXXXXXX

The second morning after the hunt, Dean and John headed back to the Hawk house to tell the two their decision, and basically leave Dean in their care until both he and Sam were ready to travel on their own and hunt.

They rang on the doorbell and were told to come in by a distracted sounding Sam on the other side. They found him pacing, agitated, in the living room and he motioned for them to wait while he finished his phone call.

"No, Ray, that's fine," He said tightly. "She didn't want to wait. You were there when she said this," Sam had his back turned to them, so they missed the expressions flashing over his face.

"Yes - I'm sure. The body is already its way to you. Just tell me when it's over and I'll come." Sam's shoulders began to shake slightly, as if he were suppressing a scream or sobs.

"No, there's no one I need to tell. There's no one left to call," He said, and hung up without so much as a farewell. Sam sunk down into the chair, breathing heavily and holding his head up with one hand and an elbow resting on his knee. His face was pale, eyes rimmed red, and hair askew – the very picture of distress and grief.

He cleared his throat when his gaze fell on them, and mumbled, "Sorry," before straightening himself.

There was a tense moment of silence, neither of the Winchesters willing to speak, and then Sam simply said, "She passed on,"

"Mel? Jesus," John looked beside himself, breathing deeply and biting his lips before leaving the room and going outside.

Dean had been around an emotionally compromised person before, facing the loss of friends, brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, lovers... He had even had to deal with hunters who had lost those close to them...

But in the face of Sam Hawk's sorrow over losing an ill Amelia Hawk, he had no words or action that he could think to give that would be enough to convey how sorry he was to see such a fighter, such a man, in pain. It was like witnessing the decent of a wounded owl, a wise warrior falling past faith and hope and succumbing to its fate.

Dean may have seen the pain and resignation of death on a hundred others, possibly live to see a thousand more, but he would never feel such an impact from a stranger again, he somehow knew.

Even in the realization of that, he could not find the reason why his hand reached out and placed itself on Sam's shoulder. Dean was not an overwhelmingly comforting guy, relationship-driven intentions or otherwise. Just take one look at his parent, and you'll know the reason for that little deficiency.

But here he was, softly gripping Sam shoulder, moving himself to sit beside the tall brunette.

The action caused Sam to lift his head slightly and turn his clear hazel eyes toward Dean. The stare wasn't blank, or overly intense with grief; instead the irises held a question that Dean would never be able to articulate, but could somehow understand and answer.

The two shared what could be called the smallest smile in the world; the only indication of the secret that they found connected them in that moment, and forever more.

And Sam's heart felt lighter, somehow more attuned to his mother's spirit than before. He could sense that she had passed painlessly, and was at peace. The weight of her impending death and ever-present suffering was gone, and Dean was there, his unwitting guide to the unsure future.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

So…what? Good start? Lame start? Like it or not?

TELL ME! Hope you guys like my first attempt at a Supernatural FanFic. I'm making another Sam/Dean one, so tell me if you want to see it too.

Criticize all you want, it gives me better ideas.


	2. Chapter 2: A Graceless Savior

**Chapter 2: A Graceless Savior**

"So, what's next?"

_What's next? How about you and I make some good use of that hotel off the exit and –_ Dean shook his head and pushed his thoughts away once again, for the fifteen thousandth time.

It had been two months, _two months_, since Dean's father had left to do whatever his little hunter heart had been set on doing alone and Sam and Dean had been hunting alone together. They had been _**alone**__**together **_for that long, and what do they do?

Hunt. And ignore that big fuckin' _neon_ orange elephant (also known as their attraction for one another) like it was the Black Death. Like it was a bad thing for two sexy hot blooded young males to lust after one another.

Dean had tried to let things run their own course, he knew that Sam was still hurting after the loss of his mother, and he knew that they would eventually hook up after he figured out that Sam wasn't exactly straight either. He tried to be patient; he really did, but…

It seemed that every time they got close to something - hell, _anything_ - that resembled a tense sexual moment, Sam would back off for some reason. Most of the time with a lame excuse, and other times he didn't even bother. Dean wanted to ask if Sam planned to become an abstinent monk sometime in the near future with the way he was avoiding the situation. Dean had yet to see the real problem with their relationship developing that way, considering how well they worked and even sometimes talked with one another.

"My dad sent us a hunt this time, over in Colorado. They've been having missing reports of hikers in the area for a few months on three separate trips," Dean answered.

"Any idea of what it could be?"

"There were no remains of the victims found reported so far and no strange sightings either. Not even a damn bear or wild cat," Dean shook his head.

"What's the place called?" Sam asked, reaching into the back seat and pulling out his laptop bag.

"Barton's Wildlife Preserve," Dean said, "It's a big place for campers and naturalists, so the park ranger is considering closing the area off to visitors for a while until they can find the bodies or the 'animal' that's causing all of this,"

Sam's laptop screen glowed against his features in the fading evening light. He studied the information on the Preserve for a few moments before saying, "Yeah, it must be pretty popular to actually have its own website. Says you can pan for gold or even go hang gliding,"

"Hang gliding?" Dean questioned out loud.

"Mmm-hmm. Off of Chai Point; the preserve seems to have a lot of cliffs in the area that make it a hot spot for that kind of thing. The site says that it's off limits until further notice, though…Do you think that that's where the disappearances happened?"

"Sounds like it, even if they're trying to keep the whole situation hush-hush. Guess they had to close it if their customers were suddenly disappearing."

"Should we look their first? After we talk with the park ranger, of course,"

"Of course. So, who are we this time? FBI or State Police?"

"I'd go with the state police. You like being FBI way too much."

"Hey! That badge took forever to get right," Dean defended, "And people don't ask the FBI too many questions,"

"Yeah, I'm sure that's the only reason you like playing FBI, Agent Winchester," Sam rolled his eyes.

That title sent a shiver down Dean's spine. "You know you love it," He smiled cockily.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The state trooper they met was housed in a cabin adjacent to the reception building at the forefront of the Preserve. It was late afternoon when they arrived, flashing their badges at the grisly man's door and requesting the information on the missing persons.

"There's not much else I can tell you," the trooper, introduced as Rick, rubbed his chin in bashful embarrassment, "The five search parties we sent out came up empty handed, and after the seventh person went missing, we closed the hang gliding option down to all tourists. No one local has gone gliding since, either."

"Were all the missing persons tourists?" Sam asked, posing as Officer John Harker.

"No, the first two to disappear were local thrill seekers. Reese and Mark Green, brothers. It was a real tragedy, 'specailly seein' as their bodies are still missing. Can't even have a proper funeral, and their families are hurting somethin' awful." Rick sighed.

Dean and Sam shared a look. "We'll see if we can't find them, sir." Dean told the man.

"Hope your luck is better then ours has been, officers. Call me if you find anything," Rick said.

"We will," Sam assured, and they began their hunt in earnest.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Do you see anymore?" Sam called out.

"No, nothing over here," Dean answered, loading his flare gun in the fading twilight. They had found three or four distinct tracks of the creature, which happened to be a Windego, near the top of the ridge after following a set from the bottom of the cliff on a little used trial.

The height was making Dean nervous, and he twitched involuntarily every time he noticed how close Sam was to the ledge. The tall brunette seemed to take no heed of the impressive drop just inches from his foothold, though.

"Hey, there's something buried here…" Sam knelt near a large rock and started to dig in with his fingers gently.

"What is it?" Dean came up behind Sam, looking over his shoulder.

"I think it's a…Swiss Army Knife?" Sam pulled it free, brushing the dirt from the silver handle. "R. Green…Guess this was where the brothers must have been attacked."

"And where the Windego's hunting ground is…We should get out of here for tonight, we've stayed too long anyway," Dean looked around sharply, noting how fast the light was making the forest surrounding them much more menacing with the prospect of an attacker they would not be able to see.

"Yeah, we should have left an hou- Wait! Did you see that?" Sam's eyes darted behind them and through the tree line. There was a sound of a quick crunch of leaves and bushes rubbing against each other. At first it seemed like the disturbance came from directly to their right, but then it started again ten feet to their left.

Dean and Sam's breaths were shallow and controlled. Both of their flare guns were at the ready, trained steady at the shifting foliage. It was ironic, Sam thought, as their 'job' title was hunter, and more often then not they were the ones who were treated as prey.

The sudden and long quiet did not settle their nerves, their muscles tensing further in practiced meditation and preparation for the imminent strike of their pursuer. The grey beast finally did leap at them, charging straight for Dean and dodging only minimally to the left and down to evade their shots. Sam jumped out to his right and fired again, hitting its side just below the heart and the body burst into flames.

But it was too late.

"DEAN!" Sam cried, reaching out futilely over the edge of the ridge.

Dean had moved a step back and tried to dodge to his left, tripping over a half-hidden root and cursed his luck. The now fiery form of the monster slammed into Dean, sending the two of them flying off the cliff and into the chasm of forested darkness. Dean yelled out, his shout ending abruptly as he used the last of his momentum to shove the burning body away from him. His jacket had protected him for the most part, and none of his clothing had been able to catch fire in the wind velocity of the fall.

Sam reacted without thought. After his shock had shaken his mind, the chilling recognition that he might lose Dean washed over him like a shot of pure caffeine.

He jumped after Dean, shooting downwards like a bullet with outstretched arms. Dean seemed like he was floating in mid-air with the rate that Sam was catching up to him. Once his hands grabbed Dean's back and he had a firm hold on his panicking partner, Sam let loose his true form.

Dean could not believe his eyes.

At first, he barely registered Sam's shout over the knowledge that he was going to die. On the forest floor of some random Wildlife Preserve in the middle of nowhere.

Splat. Or CRUNCH, depending on which part of him hit the ground first.

Then Sam was above him, falling faster than he was and heading on a collision course with Dean. Had Dean not been practically hyperventilating, or about to die himself, he would have screamed at Sam for being a suicidal moron. But then Sam's arms were around him, and he couldn't breathe for a whole different reason.

"Hold on," Sam's voice said in his ear. His hands wrapped around Sam's waist on command. And he saw…

White. They were pulled up harshly, and all the air was stolen from Dean's lungs as Sam's wings ruffled in the wind resistance.

_Wings?_ Dean gasped as the oxygen returned around them; time slowing like it was making up for the near death experience. And Sam was _flying_, fuck; _they_ were flying, because of _Sam's __**wings**_.

Dean felt like he had been kept out of a very important secret, but the only thing he could think was, _Huh, so this is why he's so stand-offish most of the time_…

Dean was still breathing harshly as they touched down on the ground moments, an eternity, later. Besides being completely breathless, all Dean could accomplish was staring at Sam.

Sam still had his arms around Dean, and Dean hadn't relented his grasp either. Their blood was pumping frantically, as if they were still spiraling towards demise. When Dean finally let go and stepped away slightly, he blinked and stared some more.

_Beautiful_…

Sam may have well have been an angel-

"Dean?" Sam asked timidly at the strangled gasp that left Dean's mouth.

"What-what are you?" Dean said brokenly, throat dry and constricting in spasms.

Sam looked genuinely hurt. The great, fifteen foot wings fell limp, almost brushing the forest floor.

"An angel," Sam said bluntly. His voice was dead, and his eyes were dark.

"Angels don't have wings – I've met them before." Dean gazed in wonder at the white wings shimmering in the moon light. He tried to get his head on straight, but the rush of adrenaline and shock of the new development mixed up his thoughts.

"Yeah, well, I'm special," Sam said bitterly. He glared at the appendages growing from his back. They had ripped through his shirt, and he tore off the rest of it in utter frustration.

"I'll say," Dean breathed out, stepping towards Sam.

Sam looked at Dean closely, judging the older man's reactions carefully now. "I'm half-angel; my mother married one after they met a year before. That's why I have wings. Full-fledged angels have to use vessels to speak with humans most of the time, so their wings are hidden. My true form won't blind people, so you can see mine without getting hurt."

"Makes sense…" Dean said, shaking his head. "Why didn't you tell us from the beginning?"

Sam sighed. "I didn't know that you had met any angels before; most hunters just think that they're myth anyway. Truthfully, I just didn't want to end up with a bullet in my chest,"

"I can see why you would think that…" Dean sighed as well.

Silence.

"Half-angel huh?" Dean chuckled, "Great pick-up line material,"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "I tell you that I'm half-angel, and you find a way to turn it into a sexual innuendo. Typical," Sam had to laugh a little too.

"So…"

"So…?"

"Can I touch them?" Dean's eyes shone with renewed curiosity. It was Sam's turn to stare intently.

"Sure…" Sam stood stock still as Dean approached him, watching Dean's face as he looked at the wings.

Dean reached out his hand and his fingers lightly brushed the feathers on Sam's right wing. Sam tensed, but Dean didn't notice Sam's reaction until he used his entire hand to pet Sam's wing. Sam's whole body seemed to shudder under the attention. His wing pressed into the contact and his eyes slid closed.

"So soft…" Dean continued his ministrations, alternating between hands as he carefully manipulated the wing in his touch.

"They're not as delicate as they look," Sam breathed, trying to focus on something other than the feeling of Dean's hands on his wing.

"I'll bet," Dean said, finally looking at Sam's face. He watched as the strong jaw line tensed and then relaxed, lips parting as Dean's fingers delved deeper into the wings.

"Is…is this why you're so distant from me?" Dean asked quietly, wanting to smack himself for how weak the question sounded.

"Well, I couldn't bring myself to tell you the truth. I didn't want to hurt you by not telling you, but…Damn," Sam sighed, clearing his head from the fog of comfort and slight arousal. "I was just afraid,"

"Of what? Me? It's not like I would have rejected you just cause you have wings," Dean laughed, "I'd actually like a pair myself, if it wasn't for the whole fear of flying thing,"

"No one else knows except my mother," Sam opened one eye, "And when she first found out when I was eight, she cried,"

Dean winced, trying to imagine what it would feel like to face that kind of abstract rejection from his own father. Again, the foreign urge to comfort invaded his system and he reached out and embraced Sam.

"For what its worth," he pulled back, "I think you're the most gorgeous angel I've ever met,"

With the way Dean stated that, and the way his eyes locked into Sam's, Sam didn't have a chance. He blushed hard under the attention, smirking ruefully, "And probably the most emotional,"

Dean laughed at that comment. "I'll give you that one," His hand swept over the wing again, and Sam shuddered harder.

"Am I hurting you?" Dean asked, half-sarcastically. He brushed the wing harder, and Sam bit his lip, shaking his head quickly.

"Didn't think that your wings would be that sensitive…" Dean whispered in Sam's ear, the heated breath making Sam inhale sharply.

"Me neither…Believe me," Sam groaned softly as Dean breathed out against his neck. Dean knew that he was taking advantage Sam in some way; obviously his wings were another erogenous zone for him. But he felt that Sam had given into him, and if Sam really didn't want this to go any further, than he would stop Dean.

He began to kiss up Sam's neck, suckling lightly and nipping his jaw line before claiming Sam's mouth in a slightly forceful kiss.

To which, Sam replied heatedly. His hands moved to grasp Dean's shoulders as Dean smoothed his over Sam's chest, enjoying the labored movement beneath his fingers. He pulled Sam closer when his tongue was allowed inside Sam's mouth, curling and sliding against Sam's. His blunt nails scraped down Sam's spine; in between his wings as Sam moved his hands down Dean's back and cupped his ass firmly.

Dean found he loved Sam like this. All of the brunette's sexual frustration was brought to the surface and he lavished Dean with a ferocity that Dean had only dreamed of a few times before. It seemed Sam was a passionate lover, rough and almost greedy, that completely enveloped Dean in a heady, delicious tear cloud of pleasure and lust he never wanted to escape from. This was how he wanted a lover, raw and demanding, unafraid to dominate or submit, because that kind of give and take promised for provocative and imaginative foreplay.

Especially with the way they would fight for who would take the top. A win-win situation that they seldom would ever see in any other area of their lives.

They broke from their kiss at the same time, Dean resting his forehead against Sam's shoulder.

"We'll search for the bodies tomorrow," Sam said, trying to bite back his intense reactions to Dean's touch. He would not lie; it had been absolute torture trying to evade Dean's advances over the last month and a half.

Not even the mention of mutilated corpses deterred Dean's arousal. All that was going through his head like a mantra was, _Get Sam on a bed NOW, Bed NOW, Bed NOW…hey, the motel has a bed…Or would Sam mind a little on top of the Impala?_

"Yeah, tomorrow," Dean agreed absently. He was shaken from his 'fun' thoughts when he gazed at Sam's wings once more.

"What about…?"

"Oh, these?" Sam glanced at his back, "Watch,"

The wings pulled inward, folding behind Sam with a small 'whoosh'. They were long enough that they crossed the bottom when bent. A gentle shimmer of the moon's light reflected in small waves, and the wings seemed to dances out of sight.

"Damn…" Dean stared at the empty space where the wings had been.

"What?" Sam asked cautiously.

"Wish I had a pair," Dean grinned, "It's like your own personal jet pack or something,"

Sam had to smile back, "You read to many comics as a kid,"

"As a kid? Who said I ever stopped? Action movies are just like moving comic books to me," Dean laughed, and Sam felt more carefree than he had since his mother had been healthy. Since he was a child, even.

"And horror movies are what? Your life story?" Sam chuckled.

"Only the good ones, cause if _The Exorcist_ was anything like what we have to deal with, I think I would have shot myself a long time ago…" Dean made a face at the thought.

XXXXXXXXXX

They got back to the motel an hour later, and threw all conversation out the window. Dean knew his secret, the one insecurity he really had, and Dean was okay with it. Understanding, consoling and even happy that he knew.

He whispered _amazing_ as he pressed his hands against Sam's upper back, as he pulled Sam down on top of him and they fell on the bed. Their shirts and pants were bunched up in a pile near the door, and the heat that consumed the two before returned in a whirlwind, bringing them clashing together in lips and teeth and tongue and skin and nails and delicious sensation.

Their closeness only intensified the rush of pleasure and the slight frustration of their last barrier: the boxers still had to be removed. It was just as quick, as fast as the rest of their journey back to the motel, a hurried pulling and flinging and they were completely bare to one another.

As soon as they came together again though, the world slowed to a sloth's pace. Dean's breath seemed heavier, mingling with Sam's before their mouths touched and caressed in a torturously unhurried way. Sam's hands ran over Dean's sides, down, down, before sliding over his ass and cupping there. The pressure increased between them, rocking against one another urgently. Dean moaned as Sam suckled on his pulse just above his collar bone, his tongue and teeth moving over the most sensitive spots on his neck. Dean's hand combed through the long brown hair and then clawed harshly down Sam's back, making Sam arch harder in between Dean's hips.

And then, all sense of time was lost to the two. They ground harder and harder together, moaning and gasping at all the sensations from their lips and hands. Just as Dean thought that he could get any hotter, go any higher, Sam cried out in release and he peaked as the warm wetness flushed over his cock, biting down hard into Sam's shoulder. For a few moments, all they could do was breathe.

Sam rolled off of Dean, panting lightly as he stared hazily at the man next to him. Their bodies were cooling quickly, and he shivered in content and utter happiness. Life was good. For now, at least.

Dean turned on his side, facing Sam, "Never thought that would happen…"

"What? Having sex with me, or having sex with an angel?" Sam asked, with faux seriousness. Dean marveled at the way his hazel eyes flashed in amusement.

"Both, actually; though now I feel vaguely evil…" Dean smirked.

Sam laughed, "Don't worry about that too much, you've found an angel that _likes_ to be defiled…especially by a sexy hunter with a wing kink."

"Damn, that sounds…" Dean shook his head to clear it, somehow vastly turned on by the prospect of _defiling_ the angel next to him again. "That's about the hottest thing I've heard in my life,"

Sam smiled wickedly, tracing his fingers over Dean's shoulder. "Well…you have me…"

Dean growled, "And just think of all the _dirty_ things I'm going to do with you now that you're mine," and pulled Sam into a fierce kiss.

Sam couldn't help the shudder that ran through him at Dean's words, feeling Dean pin him to the mattress. Any other thought that he might have had about the situation fled as he responded to Dean whole-heartedly, withholding nothing from the incredible man currently turning Sam into moaning, boneless mess.

They had a fantastic night, to say the least.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

So, what do you think? I wanted to do a story where Sam was angelic rather than demonic, 'cause it sounded like an interesting plot. Does the strangeness of chapter one make sense now? Review if you have any questions, and check out my other story

**From the Forgotten and To the Future**,

if you liked this one.

Thank you for reading!

IcyBlue


	3. Chapter 3: The Further We Go

**Chapter Three: The Further We Go**

When Sam and he got together, Dean never could have guess how close they would become. It was amazing that in some moments they could read each other's thoughts on a hunt, almost feel what the other was feeling through a simple touch. And yes, Dean felt like a total chick for thinking that way most of the time, but he didn't care if he was with Sam. This made him feel even more like he was losing his manliness, that was, until Sam kissed him or looked at him again.

Or till he kicked some bad monster ass. Which, was happening pretty often lately. Like a lot more than usual. It felt like they never got a break after a hunt, between Sam's laptop research and his father's random texts. They had been on three hunts that month alone, and Dean was sure that it was only going to run over eventually. Didn't other hunters hunt too? Or was it just Sam and him taking on every little ugly that reared its annoying head in the United States? It was beginning to seem like a distinct possibility.

This was probably the reason for their most recent detour to Oklahoma, to the Roadhouse. They needed a break, because between all the hunting action and intense sex, their energy levels had depleted considerably. Not that either was complaining, mind you…

It was late on Thursday that they reached the turnoff, driving all the way from California. It was bustling with the usual activity, drunken slurs and rowdy laughs all around, with a few heated glares from the forlorn looking to suffer in numb alcoholic bliss. Sam had been here so many times in the past, it was like another home.

Dean loved the place as well; he could test his skills against some of the best hustlers in the country. He glanced at the pool table in nostalgia and a little longing before heading to the bar where Ash, surprisingly awake for once, was serving drinks.

"Dean! And Sam?" He called out. "Haven't seen either of you in like forever, man."

"Hey Ash," Dean greeted, "Ellen and Joe here?"

"Yep, just out back," Ash smiled, "Joe's really been wantin' to see ya Sam,"

"Sorry for not coming to see you guys sooner," Sam accepted the beer that Ash handed to him, "Been a crazy couple of months hunting,"

"I hear ya," Ash saluted them with his own drink, "Here's to kicking ass and bein' alive,"

Dean laughed, "I'll drink to that," They clinked bottles and drained them completely. Dean swore that the Roadhouse had the best drinks, no matter how many bars he travelled to.

A flying fury of blond hair and spitfire launched itself into Sam, who nearly fell off the barstool. He laughed as he hugged Joe, seeing her annoyed expression.

"Sam Hawk, what took you so long to get your ass here?" She demanded, almost putting her hands on her waist and tapping her foot in reprimand.

"Like I was telling Ash, it's been a madhouse hunting season," Sam grinned apologetically.

"It's been a year! Be sure to check in more often, or I'm gonna wail you next time," She warned, only half kidding.

"That's real incentive for him to come back," Dean chuckled.

"You can stay away as long as you want," Joe glared playfully.

"Oh, you wound me," Dean placed a hand over his heart, falling back against the bar dramatically.

Sam laughed, "Remind me to never let you near a stage, Hamlet,"

Joe joined the laughter along with Ash when Dean glared at Sam. They all shared another drink together, chatting off and on about bar fights and hunt mishaps. Ellen took over for Ash a few minutes after their second beer, and gave her condolences to Sam for his loss. He smiled warmly, not a hint of sadness in his eyes. It had been long time coming, he knew more than anyone, so it made handling her death a little easier.

"So, you're hunting with Dean now, are you?" Ellen eyes found the man shooting pool with Joe, sinking the striped ball in the corner pocket. "Any…trouble there?"

"He knows, El," Sam said, using her nickname from his childhood without realizing it.

"You told him? After how long?" Ellen looked very surprised. Sam was not very forward with the information.

"Kinda had to tell him after he saw my wings," Sam muttered, knowing she would be able to hear and no one else would.

"When did that happen?" Ellen's eyebrows skyrocketed.

"In Colorado, about a month and a week ago," Sam said, "He was pushed from a cliff by a Windego, and I couldn't just let him fall," Sam sounded only a little defensive.

"And he didn't pull a gun on you?" Ellen looked suspiciously into Sam's eyes.

"Apparently he's met angels before," Sam shrugged. "He took it pretty well," Sam smiled over at Dean, who was arguing with Joe for messing up his shot at the last second.

"Uh-oh," Ellen chuckled, "I know that look…"

Sam snapped his gaze back to her. "What?"

"Don't try and pull one over me. You guys are obviously together," Ellen retrieved another beer for herself, "Didn't peg him to go both ways, though," She smiled wryly.

"Neither did I, at first," Sam admitted. For at least the first week that he travelled with Dean, he had been completely oblivious to his come-ons and attempts at flirting. Though Dean had been trying to be subtle in the beginning to let Sam deal with Amelia's death.

Sam let out a sudden laugh as a thought struck him, "My mom did though,"

"What?" Ellen looked perplexed.

"She tried to set us up, even we first met,"

"Sounds like Amelia, she was always so sharp," Ellen chuckled, shaking her head.

"But Sam…"

"Yeah?"

"Promise me you'll be careful," Ellen warned him, "The Winchesters have a knack for getting in some serious supernatural throw-downs,"

"And the Hawks are all just sunshine and fluffy white wings?" Sam held back a snort.

"You know what I mean,"

"Yes, and I'll be as cautious as always," Sam promised. Ellen knew how meticulous the boy could be, so she just ended the lecture there as Sam stood to join Joe and Dean. She was just as worried about John's boy though, because although Sam was like an angelic version of a Looney toons character, attracting danger at every turn, the Winchesters were demon magnets of the sorriest sort.

_What a pair they make_, Ellen thought as she moved to pour drinks to her other, paying customers.

XXXXXXXXX

Dean and Sam were only at the Roadhouse for two sleepy and easy-going days before there was another text from John: _Go to Bobby's_.

Again promising to come back soon, Sam and Dean clambered into the Impala at seven in the morning. It was an eight hour drive to Bobby's, and they wondered what could be waiting for them there.

"You just hope it's not another Wendigo," Sam jibed.

"Funny, you just wish that you could see me that freaked out again," Dean glared.

"I admit it was a little entertaining watching you get so nervous next to the cliff," Sam smiled, "But you falling off the edge scared me too,"

"Yeah, yeah, you're just lucky that you've got wings," Dean laughed.

"So are you, apparently. I still maintain that you have a serious wing kink,"

"Wouldn't disagree with you there, but you are gorgeous even without the wings, Samuel," Dean leered at Sam's body, enjoying the full flush that came over Sam's face.

"Perv," Sam muttered, looking out the window to try to keep down the heat on his face and collar.

"And you love it, you angelic sex-aholic," Dean turned on the radio and changed lanes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"We're here!" Dean sing-songed their arrival on the wood porch. Bobby came to the screen, pushing it open with a half smile at Dean's antics.

"Dean," He nodded a greeting. "Who's this?"

Sam shifted minutely under his gaze. "I'm Sam, Sam Hawk,"

"Hawk?" Bobby asked, muttering under his breath, "Amelia's boy?"

"Yes sir," Sam said, unsure of how to treat the older hunter. His mom had never mentioned him before.

"Well, she sure raised you up nice and polite, but I don't want to be called anything but plain ole' Bobby, ya hear?" Bobby's amused expression grew.

"Sure, Bobby," Sam smiled, already feeling more comfortable in his presence.

"So, did Dad tell you why he wanted us here?" Dean was impatient.

"Why don't you go in and ask him yourself?" Bobby opened up the door to let them in, eyeing Sam with caution. "Want anything to drink?"

Sam smiled wider, "Why not just hand over the holy water?"

"Cause most hunters get offended when I try that," Bobby shook his head, "And it's just courtesy,"

"I'll have a beer if you have any," Sam nodded, following behind Dean as the blond rushed into the house.

"Hey Dad," Dean embraced his father tightly in gladness, one of those touches that assured him that his dad was alright and unhurt just as it did the same for John.

"Dean," John smiled, "How's hunting been?"

"Hectic as hell," Dean flopped down on the couch, exasperated. Sam sat next to him. "Why are there suddenly so many hunts? If feel like we've been fighting an army all by ourselves. Did the hunters get together and decide to go on some retreat and leave the rest to us?" He asked, ruefully.

"I'm not really sure about why it's happening, Dean. All supernatural occurrences have been on the rise lately." John sighed. He nodded to Sam, "How you been holding up?"

"Alright, for the most part. It was a long time coming, so I'm not as upset as I would have been otherwise," Sam smiled, "She was definitely right in contacting you when she did; I have to thank you for coming, even after such a long time apart from her,"

"Hunters need to stick together," John stated, like it was part of the manual that no one had ever taken the time to write. Bobby came back with two beers, which Sam noticed were opened already. He liked the old man's tactics; slipping the holy water into a drink so that no one would be the wiser if nothing was awry.

He took a drink, and asked, "So, why tell us to come here?"

"Demons are on the moved, about twelve or so have grouped together like I've never seen. I figure we could all go after them together, maybe capture one and get it to tell us what's going on," John paused, a strange new glint appearing in his eyes.

"Yellow-eyes is with them,"

"Shit, really?" Dean looked torn between grinning and growling, so he took a long pull from his beer. "Sounds like our golden opportunity,"

Sam looked extremely confused, "Uh…Yellow-eyes?"

John looked at Dean, "Didn't you tell him about that Demon we're hunting?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I told you, Sam," Dean scratched the side of his head.

"Oh, you mean Azazel? Sorry, not familiar with the lingo here," Sam grinned sheepishly, "I'm taking it you call him Yellow Eyes cause the ones he possesses…"

"Have yellow eyes," Dean finished for him, and Sam shot an annoyed looked at him.

"I kinda figured that out, thanks," Sam rolled his eyes. "Where are they?"

"The demons are in Lawrence," John continued, amused by their bickering.

"Sounds like he's trying to draw you guys out, if you ask me," Bobby put his two cents in, "Going to the place where this started and all,"

"Yeah, attacking where Mom died kinda screams, 'trap', doesn't it?" Dean agreed.

"We'll just have to be extra careful," John said, "We have the weapons to kill these things, so let's use them,"

"You do?" Sam asked. "Can you clue me in?"

"Sorry Sam, never really had to tell you about them before," Dean apologized, "We have this colt, made by a guy in the late 19th century that can kill anything,"

"Kind of like a cure-all for supernatural bad guys?" Dean nodded. "You're sure it works on demons?"

"I've tested it," John input, "and we have enough salt and iron to go after a hundred of these things. I think that if we move carefully enough, we will be able to outsmart them,"

Sam nodded his ascent, but looked strangely uncomfortable. "Do you have anti-possession charms? I think that even if you do, you should also get tattoos, or henna, for the time being. There could always be more than what you'd expect or know about."

"Charms I got," Bobby said, "As for the tattoo idea, I'd have to say I agree. Charms can be lost, and tattoos are a little harder to over come."

"Tattoo sounds good to me," Dean smirked, pleased that he was partnered to such an insightful person.

"I think we should stick to the henna for now, until we come back. Tattoos can be a bitch to get used to in the beginning," John said, and Sam nodded. Still, it seemed as if he were bothered by something.

They planned out their strategies for the rest of the afternoon, and Sam was only able to get Dean alone after six-thirty.

"What's on your mind?" Dean asked as he was pulled to their room.

"Do you think that they would, you know, shoot me if I told them?" Sam asked a little jokingly, but Dean could tell he was serious.

"About what you are?" Dean affirmed, and Sam shook his head. Dean sighed. "Honestly, I think that they would be alright with it, but we should wait until after this hunt to tell them. It would be too much too soon, especially for Bobby,"

"But I can – wait, Bobby? What's up with him?" Sam wondered.

"Around fifteen years ago, there was this huge falling out between the demons and angels, and my Dad helped Bobby and some other hunters fight with the angels. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Bobby's wife got hurt pretty bad, and ended up in the hospital, and he begged them to save her. But they wouldn't, something about rules and miracles." Dean waved it off, "I'm not exactly sure what they said, but Bobby's had a hard time dealing with them ever since."

Sam grit his teeth. "That, I can relate to,"

"How?" Dean looked at Sam, curious.

"You know I can heal, right?" Dean nodded, remembering the few times he had gone to sleep with cuts and woken up with clean skin.

"Well, I couldn't heal my mother, my powers as a Halfling are not strong enough," Sam breathed in and out, not letting the anger that was in his heart build up again, "So I went to my father, who is a full angel, and he said pretty much the same. I've never talked to him before or since,"

"Fuck," Dean shook his head, "I don't want to know what I'd do in your shoes,"

"It didn't matter how much I wanted to hurt him, he's angel and that means he's practically immune to pain except from other angels or particularly strong demons," Sam laughed bitterly, "emotional pain included,"

Dean rubbed a hand on Sam's lower back and kissed him soundly, wanting to absorb whatever ails the man felt. He received a smile for his efforts, and Sam's muscles relaxed.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Sam smacked Dean's ass in a fit of spurred confidence, "Let's kill ourselves some yellow eyed demons,"

Dean heartily agreed…after groping Sam and kissing him senseless.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Thanks for reviewing and to the future reviewers!

IcyBlue


	4. Chapter 4: The Beginning of Madness

**Author's Note: Thank you for all the reviews and alerts! Glad you guys like it so far…**

**So here's more!**

**Chapter Four: The Beginning of Madness**

John and Bobby rode in the Chevy truck while Dean and Sam rode in the Impala. Two days later they reached Lawrence from South Dakota, pumped and itching for a good fight, the big fight.

Sam was growing steadily more and more nervous. John and Bobby did not know about his non-human half, but they did notice (with a smirk and some teasing after a quick rest at the motel) the relationship he had with Dean. He was worried about the repercussions of letting them know about his little huge secret after the hunt was over. He did not want to be shunned from Dean or the hunting community, they were the last connection to anything in the world he had.

There was a minor delay as John went on a scouting mission with Bobby, and that had gone over relatively well. If the demons knew that they had arrived, the uglies sure weren't doing much about it. It was mid-day Tuesday when they all suited up and drove to the warehouse that the demons had as a base, it seemed.

It was so very different from most of the hunts that Sam and Dean had experienced, the bright sun shining down with the barest hint of cloud in the sky, the water sparking on some distant lake – such a clear day on flat land that let you see for miles…

…And observing all this beauty was really not on the itinerary for the four hunters, who had caught up to one demon who was patrolling and managed to stuff a porous bag of salt in its mouth before it could scream. Sam and Dean held it down as John recited the ritual and Bobby kept watch.

They circled the building several times, looking for any sign of an ambush waiting from the outside.

"There were at least six in there when we last checked," Bobby whispered, as they tried to figure out their next move.

"I don't think we should just barge in there – but what other choice is there?" Sam asked, eyes looking skyward for a moment.

"Is there any way to get on the roof?" Dean wondered aloud, speaking as if he were still in the conversation they were having. The other three looked at him like he was out of his mind, before a light bulb clicked on in Sam's mind.

"You want to make devil's traps up there? That's genius," Sam grinned. Dean basked in the praise, and was glad that he had the thought.

"I like it too, but I don't know if I saw a way up…" John said.

"I think I might have, on the other side of the building. Some old, skinny ladder," Sam informed, "Why don't we go over and check and we'll meet you down here when we're done?"

John and Bobby agreed, "We'll keep watch down here, be sure to check your phones for texts,"

"And make sure yours is on silent this time," Dean glared laughingly at his father, who grumbled but checked his cell anyway.

Sam raised an eyebrow, wondering at the history behind the inside joke. "I'll tell you about it later," Dean smirked, and they slinked silently as twin cats to the other side of the building.

"Your son's got himself a good partner," Bobby rumbled in his low voice, "they make a good team,"

John smiled, despite the severity of the whole situation. "Yeah, I can't say I regret taking Mel up on her offer. Haven't seen Dean that lively since he was ten,"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So, where's this ladder of yours, Sammy?" Dean looked down the side of the building before taking in the expression on Sam's face. They both had cans of spray paint in hand.

"Um…" Sam started, a sheepish smile on his lips and apologetic look in his eyes, "I kinda fibbed,"

"But why would you tell them that – oh, no! Sam, not again…" Dean groaned quietly, still wary of his surroundings, "I'm not good with heights as it is,"

"And yet you have a thing for feathers," Sam's amusement was never in short supply around his Dean. His wings appeared and he had a hold of Dean before the blond could whine anymore.

He made sure to land softly, as far away from any edges as possible. Dean's perturbed attitude had little effect after Sam kissed him and whispered promises of bedroom activities. They finish about four each and decided that was enough, on in each corner and in front of the exits and entrances, plus one or two in some random places to catch them off guard if they caught on too quickly. Once satisfied, Sam looked over the edge and spotted Bobby and John before taking Dean and himself back down on the opposite side of the warehouse.

They reunited with the older men and quickly made to storm the building; Sam armed with a mega tank squirt gun full of holy water, (Fear me! His mind shouted and died of laughter in Dean's voice. Even Bobby and John who admitted that it was a good idea had to stifle some chuckles at that), Dean with a couple of iron chains and a crowbar, Bobby with salt and iron shot gun, and John with the famous colt brining up the rear of the group.

Ready as ever, the hunters pulled up the garage-like door and came guns to black eyes of three demons. One was burned by the swirling streams of holy water and tried in vain to keep the stuff out of its eyes. Dean wrapped that one in the chains he carried and stuffed a salt bag in its mouth. The second demon caught a bullet from John's gun between its eyes and dropped like a bag of bricks without as much as a curse to his family name. Bobby blasted the third one with two shots and it fell into one of the devil's traps.

John moved forward quickly, catching two more demons by surprise and gunning them both down with a single bullet each. All the ones he had shot so far had depthless black eyes, but that only equated to five demons…

A loud clapping reached their ears, and the four hunters paused as one. There was a hearty laugh that filled the air, and the sound of heavy boots walking on the concrete floor. Two seconds before they could react any more than that, and they were all pinned to the walls.

"Well done, my brave little hunters, well done," The man addressed them, and his yellow eyes glinted in the sunlight. "Five demons down in only minutes,"

He stopped his slow clapping, looking them in the eye in turn, reveling in their struggles, before pausing on Sam.

"Sammy! My beamish boy, have you come to help the frumious Winchesters slay the Jabberwocky?" Azazel clucked his tongue, "Bravery is a strong suit in you hunters, but intelligence has always seemed to elude you,"

"How do you know me?" Sam asked, frustrated that the demon was strong enough to affect him.

"Only by your reputation, I assure you," Azazel was all manners, "And your father of course, the bundle of laughs that he is,"

Sam sneered, trying to free himself even harder.

"And John, who could forget the stony one-man-show that you are? Still trying to figure out why I killed your wife?" Azazel laughed as John growled something inarticulate, and moved his gaze to Dean.

"Dean, Daddy's Little Soldier." The glare Dean sent his direction only made the demon smile wider. "I'm sure we'll see many great things from you…"

"What?" Dean asked, not liking the ominous tone at all, "I wouldn't call wiping the floor with your annoying ass a great thing. Though you would, fucking narcissist."

"Always with the attitude," Azazel continued, "One of your least admirable qualities by far, I'll have to see what I can do about that,"

"Yeah, same thing with your speeches, chuckles, cause you like the sound of your own voice _way_ too much,"

"Tut-tut, Soldier boy, you'll never get far with that tongue," Azazel chided, and made Bobby suffer for Dean's transgressions. A long slash from shoulder to wrist on Bobby's arm made the grisly man shout in shock and pain.

"Leave him alone, jackass!" Dean yelled, pulling every which way to escape.

"Now there's some real enthusiasm." Azazel chuckled, "I just wanted to let you know that others will suffer because of you, Dean, if you're not more cautious in the future…It's a fair warning, and the only one you'll ever get from me,"

Dean glared ferociously, his mouth set in a thin line as he kept glancing over at Bobby to make sure he was still conscious.

"Not that it matters all that much anyway, you'll soon find out," Azazel laughed with fervor.

"What do you mean, what are you going to do to him?" John shouted.

That only made Azazel laugh harder, "Patience has never been one of your fortes, I see, but it the only way you'll know," He turned his gaze back to Sam, who looked like he was attempting to make the demon spontaneously combust.

"Aw, don't feel left out Sammy, I know exactly what I'm going to do to you when the time comes," Azazel's eyes were shameless, like his word and thoughts, wondering over Sam's form in earnest and licking his lips, "You're not like the rest of your kind. You'll be so delicious when you finally break…"

The black smoke escaped from the borrowed body and ceased their conversation, only adding to the mountainous pile of questions that the four of them had…

Well, three and the slowly collapsing Bobby. They were released from Azazel's hold and dropped to the concrete floor. Immediately, Dean and John were at Bobby's side, trying to assess what could be done to stop the bleeding.

"Move," Sam said forcefully, and John even scooted to the side at the authority in the man's voice. It was like being in the Marines again.

Bobby groaned loudly at Sam's touch to his arm, and the tall brunette carefully lifted the appendage up. Sam's right hand glided gently an inch above Bobby's skin and the wound, from the top of his shoulder all the way down to the wrist. John and Dean watched, enthralled, at the way the split skin quickly mended, almost like stitching itself back together. Sam removed his shirt once he was done, wiping off the blood from Bobby's arm and avoiding the two men's hard stares.

"You probably shouldn't move for a while, with all the blood you lost," Sam murmured quietly. "Does it hurt still?"

"No," Bobby said, moving his arm around, "Feels fine."

"Good…" Sam sighed, not liking the situation he had just put himself in.

"No, not good. What just happened?" John demanded. Sam looked deeply into the man's brown eyes, like when he had first met him. He saw anger, confusion, and a tiny glimmer of relief.

"Sam…" Dean started, trying to urge the other to speak. Now was not the time to be shy and clam up. His father did not appreciate being kept in the dark about anything.

"I know," Sam stood, shoulders slumped, "But would you mind taking that away from him first? It's making me nervous," Sam indicated the gun in John's hand, which was shaking from the grip he had on it.

Dean would have found the request preposterous and a little on the hilarious side if it wasn't for the way Sam had folded in on himself. Hunters didn't give up their weapons, even to other hunters, but Dean was willing to try for Sam. Even if it was his dad.


	5. Chapter 5: Questions

**Chapter Five: Questions**

John reluctantly gave over his gun to Dean, whom he had complete trust in…after a muttered 'christo' and the press of a silver charm didn't make Dean's skin burn.

Sam let out a sigh, full of relief, and a little exasperation, after John was gun-less. At least the initial shock wouldn't end in total tragedy.

"Now, tell me what you just did," John demanded.

"I healed him," Sam answered flatly. "It's one of the abilities I have,"

"How?" Bobby asked.

"I'm half-angel," Sam said.

"Bullshit." Was the immediate response from both men, and Sam couldn't hold back his chortle.

"Yeah, hard to believe an emotionless being could have fallen in love," Sam shook his head, "I still have trouble believing it, but Joshua, my father, is an angel."

"Sounds far-fetched, even for me," John said.

"I'd believe him if I were you," Dean interjected.

"Why? Just because he can heal and holy water doesn't hurt him?" John raised an eyebrow.

"You don't have to just take my word for it," Sam rolled his eyes, and lifted off his shirt. With a calming breath, he released his wings.

In the warehouse, where most of the sun was blocked off, Sam's wings glowed gently. He stretched them to their full length, feeling like a freak show at Bobby and John's open-mouthed stares.

"Need any more proof?" He asked nervously.

"Angels don't have wings," Bobby denied.

"Well, they actually _do_, but if you saw them with your own two eyes, you'd go blind," Sam said. "That's why angels need vessels in the first place; their true form is too pure for non-celestial beings. My true form just isn't as…potent," Sam finished dejectedly.

"Can you…use them?" John wondered uncertainly.

Sam smiled slyly at Dean. "Wanna give 'em a demonstration?"

"Uh-ha-ha, you can do the honors all by yourself…" Dean looked as if he wanted to hide behind his father.

Sam laughed, "Ever know that your son has a fear of heights?" He asked John, before pushing off the ground and his wings beat him almost all the way to the high ceiling.

He dove and swooped around inside the large building, holding his place half way to the floor and then dropping daintily to the ground and hiding his wings again, tried of the way that John and Bobby were looking at him.

"Satisfied?' Sam kept his eyes on the floor, not wanting to see what their expressions were.

Dean nudged his father roughly to get him to say something, _anything_.

"Well…that's a new one." John huffed out a laugh, scratching the back of his head. "How did you find out?" He asked his son.

"Sam saved my clumsy ass from going ker-splat off a cliff," Dean said sheepishly.

"How long have you known?" John narrowed his eyes.

"Umm…three months?" He guessed, though it was probably almost four.

"And you didn't think to tell me?" John looked caught between disappointment and anger.

"It's not really something you say over the phone," Dean defended. "Besides, it's his secret to tell or not to, and it's not like his a wolf or vampire. He just _healed_ Bobby for Christ's sake!"

"Still-"

"Enough!" Bobby startled them all, yelling as he got up from the ground. "Dean's right, Sam's not something we need to hunt, and it was none of our business." He looked between the two Winchesters and shook his head at their stubborn bout.

"Thank you Sam," He turned to the younger man, holding out the hand that wasn't currently coated in blood, "You saved me some serious recovery time,"

Sam nodded, blushing furiously as he shook Bobby's hand. "Glad I could help,"

"That's nice and all, but if you could heal Bobby, then why didn't you help your mother?" John frowned, still not appreciating the situation that he had unknowingly placed his son into.

Sam's reaction was one not unlike the one John had seen the first night he met the brunette and mentioned the Half-angel's father. He let go of Bobby's hand and moved so that he was face to face with John, all traces of shyness gone.

Fierce hazel stared harshly into brown. "My mother had cancer, and I tried my hardest to help her. But my powers have their limits," Sam's eyes were hard, and sad. "They were not strong enough. _I_ was not enough to save her. I couldn't even convince my father, not even on my hands and knees, to cure her. Now, are there any other highly personal wounds that you would like to take a stab at? Like what it felt like to be rejected by my own father? Hmm?"

"Sam," Dean placed his hand on the half-angel's arm, telling him without words that it was enough. John's eyes looked down and away, seemingly embarrassed for his thoughtlessness.

Sam deflated, his head dropping as he backed up a few steps. "Sorry, I didn't mean to take that out on you,"

John shook his head. "I wasn't thinking either. That's a sore subject for you, I know it. I was there."

Sam nodded, accepting the apology.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Now, let's get to the real problem." Bobby announced as they all plopped down around his living room.

"Which one?" Sam asked, trying to see in his mind's eye what went where and why.

"How about why the demon was so… interested with Sam?" Bobby inquired.

"That's not really a problem," Sam frowned, and continued when they all stared at him, "I'm pretty much the only one of my kind, an angel that can experience pain and emotion with the power to heal and purify," Sam shook his head, "They would find it fascinating to get me into hell and torture me for kicks, that's all."

"That's all?" Dean repeated sarcastically, "Oh, sure that's no real problem at all Sammy, they'll just take you for a quick trip down under and torture you for a few thousand years until they get bored of you…That's all, my ass,"

"Well, at least we know _what_ the hell they want with me, Dean." Sam gave the blond a hard look, "That's simple, but you, he's been after you for years, and we don't know why,"

"Or why he killed Mary," Bobby added in, "Though that's most likely connected as well,"

"What?" Dean eyes shifted sharply at Bobby's comment, "What the hell do you mean by that Bobby?"

"Don't get all defensive on me, boy. A lot of demon rituals require a sacrifice, and your mother might have been the most convenient at the time," Bobby said, factually.

"Great, my mother's death was a fucking _convenience_ to that bastard," Dean stood from his seat and rushed from the room onto the porch outside. He needed a little break, to say the least.

There was a pause before John spoke to Bobby, "Do you really think that could have been it? Mary was part of a ritual?"

"Seems more and more possible the more I think about it, to tell the truth," Bobby rubbed his hair roughly before replacing his ball cap, "I'll look into it,"

"I, uh, have some books in the car I can check with too," Sam said, going after Dean with his little excuse.

John followed his exit before shaking his head despondently, "What a day…"

"Yeah, that boy's a trip ain't he?" Bobby smirked, ruefully looking over his healed arm, "If only all angels could care as much as he does…"

"That'd make us obsolete, wouldn't it?" John smiled wistfully, "I just hope that there won't be too much extra trouble with their relationship because of what he is…"

"Yep, Dean certainly gets himself into enough trouble as it is," Bobby laughed quietly.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was the next morning at breakfast that Sam told them of his findings.

"Most of the rituals I could find required multiple sacrifices and almost all of them had immediate effects," He said, holding a tome up, "But there was one that caught my attention,"

"I'm not gonna suddenly go all black-eyed, am I?" Dean asked, only semi-seriously.

"No, but its not much better," Sam sighed, "It says that one sacrifice is required to prepare a child to house the dominant soul…"

"And the dominant soul would be…?"

"A dominant soul is simply one that can be used to channel huge amounts of power, or to break practically any seal but," Sam paused, "It takes decades for the soul to mature enough to be useful for either purpose, and since you were four when Mary died…"

"The shit has hit the fan, huh?" Dean shook his head, not liking the sound of what Sam was telling him. He should have expected nothing less from demons, though.

"Yeah, in a sense…They could use you for anything, really. An ultimate soul is an enigma before it is directed to do whatever you want it to," Sam closed the book, "That's still not the worse part though…"

"What, giving the demons a wild card to do fuck all with is not bad enough?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"The vessel of the transformed soul is ultimately destroyed when its purpose is fulfilled,"

Dean clicked his tongue, "That would put a damper on our relationship, wouldn't it?"

"To put it mildly," Sam groused.

"Don't worry; I'm pretty good at keeping my ass alive. Done it all my life and all," Dean smirked cockily at Sam's indignant glare. "And I've got you to help me,"

"True, but my concern at the moment is what the hell they would wait so long for?" Sam asked rhetorically, and was surprised as the rest of the people when his question was answered.

"To begin the final war," A voice said, and its form was anything but what they wanted to see in their time of indecision.

"Castiel, why do you never bring good news?" Dean nearly whined.


	6. Chapter 6: Angels

**Chapter Six: Angels are Jackasses**

"I wish it could be so, Dean, but I have other business this day," Castiel said.

"Hey Cas, it's been a while," Sam greeted, frowning. "What do you mean by 'final war'?"

"A term coined by humans would be apocalypse," Another suddenly appeared, with a partner.

"Apocalypse? Is that the reason for the rise in supernatural activity?" Dean's eyes bugged. "Apocalypse? Like end of the world, shit out of luck, say your goodbyes while you can, Apocalypse?"

"That's Armageddon, Dean," Sam said off-handedly, "What does Dean having a dominant soul have to do with the Apocalypse? And why are there three of you here telling us this?"

"Wait, what's the difference? Between apocalypse and Armageddon?" Dean asked.

"Apocalypse is the 'natural' destruction of mankind, Armageddon is self inflicted, we do it ourselves," Sam said, never taking his eyes off the three angels. "Now, why are there three of you here?"

"You have figured out Azazel's plan, this is why he killed Dean's mother and completed the ritual twenty one years ago." The angel who appeared second said.

"You're still not answering my questions, Joshua." Sam scowled.

"Watch your tone, boy," the third angel snapped, "He is your father, respect your elders,"

"How I speak to my father is none of your business, Uriel," Sam spat, "If he wanted my respect, he would have been a real father,"

"Why you-" Uriel sneered.

"Calm yourself Uriel," Joshua interfered, "Anger does not become an angel or your station."

"The reason we are here is to take Dean to a safe location until we can determine the best way to proceed," Castiel pushed the conversation back to its original purpose. "Until we know how many are involved in the planning of this,"

"And you couldn't have done this ten or even fifteen years ago?" Dean wondered.

"We didn't have a clear idea of what Azazel wanted until recently," Joshua said.

"Well, it's great that you figured it out and that you want to help, but I'm not going anywhere until I kill the son of a bitch myself," Dean took a gulp of coffee, "Besides, if you say that this is true, there's more like me out there. At least two other cases that I know of."

"When did you discover this?" Uriel asked.

"The first one when I was about fourteen, the second when I was about nineteen," Dean said, "And there could be more for all I know. Azazel obviously didn't want to take any chances."

"So you wish to stay and help these others?" Joshua said, and seemed to be considering.

"Yes, especially if you had no idea that there were others." Dean looked at them all.

"If that is what you want," Joshua inclined his head.

"But what about-" Uriel was cut off once again. He looked nervous.

"He wants to be apart of this prevention as well," Joshua seemed unconcerned.

"What aren't you telling us?" Sam narrowed his eyes.

Joshua sighed, annoyed that his son was so suspicious, "If Dean is to stay here, he will need protection, but we fear that there are some angels involved in this plot as well,"

"Wait, so you want to leave him under the watch of someone who may or may not be trustworthy and hope for the best? How very homicidal of you," The sarcasm was hard to miss in Sam's voice.

"Do you have a better idea, half-breed?" Uriel glared and smiled smugly.

"Let me be his guardian," Sam said, as if that were the most obvious answer in the world.

"A Guardian? You don't have the power. It takes centuries for a full angel to become a Guardian of an object, much less a human," Uriel scoffed.

"Do you have a better suggestion, jackass?" Dean growled, annoyed at the racist attitude of the angel. "Seems like he's the only one of you I can trust if you can't tell who's on what side of the fence."

"Enough, Uriel," Joshua commanded before the other could speak again. "If you truly mean to go through with becoming Dean's guardian, you must take the test,"

"Do not favor him because he's your son, Joshua-" Uriel was livid.

"He has to pass the test first Uriel, the same as any other angel that requests to become a Guardian. Do not question my orders again." Joshua turned Sam.

"This is not a thing to be taken lightly, Sam. There is a possibility that-"

"I may not survive it. I understand. I still want to do it." Sam looked Josh straight in the eyes.

"I cannot say that I approve of your choice, but if it is what you want..."

"I'm not doing this for you. I've never cared for your opinion before, and I'm not going to start now," Sam said on monotonously. "I'll do whatever I can to get Dean past this. Being his guardian would just be a bonus," Sam smiled at Dean, who actually blushed for what felt like the first time in his life. "But what is Azazel planning to do with Dean's soul?"

"He's going to break the seal containing the Fallen One," Castiel answered.

"Fallen One?" Dean eyed Sam's face, which had suddenly turned ashen.

"Lucifer, the Devil, Satan…" Uriel smiled condescendingly, "Don't you read, boy?"

Sam caught Dean's arm before the blond could stand up and attempt anything violent. "Ignore him. He's definitely not worth the time, trust me. We get it. The apocalypse will begin if Lucifer is allowed free, so there's not much time. I'll take the test immediately," Sam took a deep breath, trying to settle his racing nerves.

"It's your decision. I will come for you and morning," Joshua said in lieu of farewell, and all the angels disappeared.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Well, that's one hell of a way to start the morning. I need to see about getting me some protection charms against angels. Those pompous assholes just like to parade all over my home without consent way too much," Bobby shook his head after Sam and Dean had explained what had happened over breakfast. "No offense Sam."

Sam scoffed, "None taken, and I do know a few wards that could keep them out of the house unless you express your consent." Bobby nodded in thanks.

"So, what does it mean if you become Dean's Guardian?" John asked, mulling over all the new information in his head one piece at a time.

"It's kinda self explanatory, really. I'd just watch over him and be able to know his whereabouts if we ever get separated. I'm sorry I didn't ask before I just blurted that out, Dean," Sam said with a contrite smile.

"It's fine. I'd rather you be my Guardian then someone who might go all psycho on me," Dean waved the apology off. "But what I'm worried about is this test of yours, Sam. What do you have to do to become a Guardian? They made it sound pretty dangerous,"

Sam laughed, "And what I do everyday isn't? The only thing I regret about saying that I would become a Guardian is that I'm gonna have to see more angels."

"I can see what you mean by that. I was ready to deck that Uriel guy. I can't believe he called you half breed, like it was a bad thing." Dean shook his head, "I'd rather know you than a full angel any day,"

"Don't say that. Cas and Anna are pretty great," Sam smiled at Dean's admission, "And don't worry about Uriel, he really has no power as an angel and really hates humans, and me especially. He just sees me as dirty blood."

"He's a douche; I don't care what he thinks." Dean crossed his arms. "And don't change the subject, your Dad-" when Sam twitched at the title, Dean corrected, "I mean Joshua said that you could die trying. You wanna explain further?"

"I'm not exactly sure, tests by their terms are different than what you're used to. They don't really have any set standards, and they change to fit the angel rather than the other way around," Sam shrugged, "I guess I'll see when I get there,"

"That's reassuring. You have no sense of self preservation, do you Sam?" John's eyebrows rose.

Sam laughed at that comment, "Does any hunter?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

AHH! What's gonna happen to Sam? Dean's in trouble now!


	7. Chapter 7: Time of Trial

**Chapter Seven: Time of Trial**

At seven in the morning, when even Bobby's thick curtains were struggling with the sunlight, Sam was awake. He wanted to stay where he was, curled up against Dean under the covers and keep sleeping in utter contentment for the rest of eternity. But Dean was the reason he had accepted the test; he didn't want anyone to get close enough to harm Dean and this was the only way he could think of.

So he tightened his embrace on the blond, and kissed the back of Dean's neck gently before slipping out of bed. He left the room knowing that Dean was awake as well, but hoped that the elder would not follow him. He wanted to get this ordeal over with as quickly as possible.

Dean had said goodbye last night with rough kisses and hard hands, never saying a word. And Sam appreciated that. They would see each other again after the fact, so why make his (hopefully) temporary exit a dramatic event? He knew that Dean wasn't one for words, but damn if Dean didn't know how to say "I never want to let you go," in a thousand other ways.

These thoughts almost had Sam running back to the double bed, but he walked out to the porch wearing no shirt and jeans with boots. He didn't know if his wings were needed, but he wasn't going to hinder himself in either case.

Joshua was waiting for him when he stepped out of the house. He had placed the wards against angels inside the house before gallivanting off with Dean last night. He was glad to see that they were working.

"Samuel Marcus Hawk," Joshua said, "Are you prepared and certain that you wish to undertake this test?"

"I, Samuel Marcus Hawk, am prepared and certain that I wish to attempt this test," Sam stated the oath, the dedication required.

"Do you want to choose your examiner or will you let one be provided to you?" Joshua intoned.

"I choose to have Uriel oversee my test," Sam answered quickly, hoping to start as soon as possible. Uriel came up behind Joshua and stood solemnly by the father's side. No sarcasm or snide remarks in such an official ceremony, even with all his distain for Sam, Uriel would not disrupt or mar it.

"The examiner is chosen," Joshua announced, and Sam saw Uriel looking at the half-angel with something akin to confusion and suspicion. Sam had picked the annoying bastard to watch the test because then if Sam passed, there would be no discrepancies. And if Sam made even the smallest mistake, then Uriel would be the one looking the hardest for it. He wanted to pass completely or fail with honor.

"Let the proceedings be commenced and the apprentice taken to the place of judgment and metamorphosis," Joshua finished the preliminaries and walked up to Sam, who stood with an impassive expression that angels seemed to favor.

"Good luck," his father whispered and pressed two fingers to Sam's forehead.

And all was nothingness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean lay back on his side of the bed for a few minutes after Sam left, trying to resign himself to be patient and wait for his favorite half-angel to return. Of course, after resting there for five minutes, he realized that patience was for saints and normal people, not for hunters and especially not for Dean Winchester.

He hopped out of bed and walked down the hall to the kitchen, debating with his stomach whether or not he should eat. He was more nervous than he ever had been in his life. No one had ever been willing to risk such high stakes in order to protect him before, his own father putting his mission before his own son. Not that Dean ever blamed him, the woman he loved more than life had been taken in the cruelest of ways, and the bastard had done it to others as well. That kind of monster was not one that anyone should be comfortable living with in the world.

But now that Dean's life was at stake, Sam was the one who stepped up to the proverbial plate and was set to take a beating to protect Dean. And that scared Dean more than anything in the world. Was this what his father had felt when he thought about losing his wife?

Dean was thrust out of his internal musings on Sam when said martyr angel caught his sight from the kitchen window. He saw Joshua and Uriel standing in front of Sam before Joshua stopped right before his son and touched his head gently. As soon as his hand came in contact with Sam's brow, the tall brunette crumpled to the ground.

Dean was flabbergasted and furious as he ran outside.

"What the hell did you do to him?" He shouted at Joshua, kneeling beside the unconscious body of Sam.

"His human form would not survive the place of the exam," When Dean looked back up to Joshua, and saw that the angel was the only one still there. "I sent his soul to the site, but his physical self must remain in your care until he returns,"

"What? You separated his soul from his body!? And where did the asshole go?" Dean carefully began to gather Sam up in his arms, lifting him from the dusty floor.

"Uriel, as I presume that is whom you meant, is the one Sam chose to oversee the test," Joshua watched as Dean struggled slightly to balance with Sam's weight.

"Really? Sam really is a sucker for punishment," Dean sighed as he moved toward the house. "How long?"

"The test will take a few hours at most, then Sam will be returned to body," Joshua said.

"And what? Am I supposed to sit by his side with a thumb up my-" Dean turned to look at Sam's father and found that the angel had escaped while he wasn't paying full attention to him. "Damn it! Finish a fucking conversation for once in your eternal lives!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam found himself in a realm that was not a place or apart of time. He did not question that those were properties of the state of being that he had been transported to, but he knew that it was and that it had no name. It was strange, not to be in his physical form, there was nothing containing him or keeping him as a single being. That terrified him as much as it freed his mind and soul.

And without eyes he saw and knew that Uriel was near him. Without ears he heard the angel speak, directly into his mind.

"Your test shall be that of choice. You will protect your charge without fail, unless there is another order from me or another angel. Should you fail, there is a chance that you may not be able to return to your body, for you must exit this realm of your own volition. And it begins...now," The last word acted almost like a trigger, and the nothingness around Sam and Sam himself fit back into shapes and sight and sound and feeling.

He was standing in the middle of a field, the grass was dead and short, and went on forever into the distance. When Sam turned to his right, he saw Dean on the edge of a forest that had not been there before. A man, one with black eyes, smiled cruelly at Sam before running at Dean, who ran away into the forest.

Dean had no weapons. The demon was gaining on Dean, and Sam was gaining on the demon. Sam felt the cool handle and weight of a gun in his hand, and knew that it was the one that John had found. Just as the demon was about to tackle Dean to the ground and snap his neck, Sam still and fired the gun. The bullet lodged itself into the back of the demon's head, a chunk of skull and gray matter blowing off at the close range.

The demon dropped, and Dean looked relieved, though he did not speak. He smiled devilishly at Sam, the same way that Sam always remembered him grinning after a good hunt. Sam smiled back, and moved to embrace Dean, who accepted the gesture heartily. Then, Sam felt the angels appearing behind him, and he looked into their emotionless eyes.

"He is a danger," one of the four who stood there said.

"We must kill him now, and the world will be safe," the second, standing next to the first, said.

"Step aside, Samuel Hawk; it will be quick and without any pain," the first moved forward, and Sam tightened his grip on Dean before pushing the blond behind him.

"No, I will not," Sam said, his heart pounding. He had to get them out of there, but his wings would be easy for the angels to follow, "There is another way,"

"This is the surest measure to protect the Earth and its humans," The second said. He moved forward as well, and the four angels began to enclose them in the wood.

"I will not accept that," Sam growled, and summoned a weapon that he thought he would never have to use. He did not let them surround Dean and himself, he charged against them and impaled one in the chest and another in the side of the neck. Without pause, he dispatched the others in two firm jabs before pocketing the only type of weapon that could kill an angel, one he did not even know the name of.

He spread his wings and had Dean climb on his back before taking flight. He flew and flew until he recognized Bobby's junk yard and touched down right in front of the porch. He ran inside with Dean still on his back before setting him on the couch. Bobby and John were nowhere to be seen, and checked to make sure the protective seals against angels were in good shape. Sam felt like he couldn't breathe. He had just killed four angels...now he really was a freak in the worst of ways. He killed his father's own kind...

But he shook his head. The angels were his enemies now, they had tried to kill Dean, and Dean was everything to Sam.

Suddenly, the house started to shake and Sam stood beside Dean in the living room, trying to discern what was happening. The shaking made pieces of loose ceiling fall and cracks break into the walls...

Right through the charms warding off angels.

The structure stopped rocking and moaning soon after, and more angels appeared into the room. Sam tensed in readiness to fight once more, not even flagging in the absence allies or the number of angels standing against him. He waited for them to attack this time, and two ran forward without preamble. He was able to fend them off, and more charged at Sam, one grasping his arm and then holding both of them back. Another pushed down on his shoulders while a fourth forced his knees to bend, and he was shoved to the ground with his arms held behind him.

Dean was restrained in a similar manner, but only two angels held him back. They were both struggling, and Sam saw his own father step toward Dean.

"No!" He cried, "Its not the way! Angel's aren't supposed to kill humans, they're supposed to protect them!"

"Stand down, son," Joshua said, not even glancing at Sam before advancing further with a knife that consumed life, whole and completely. Even Dean's soul would be destroyed.

"NO!" Sam shouted a second time, and instantaneously, just before his father would plunge the weapon into Dean's chest, Sam was standing in the knife's path, and it entered his body instead.

Samuel Hawk died looking into his killer's eyes, into his father's eyes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


	8. Chapter 8: The One Who Would Be

**Chapter Eight: The One Who Would Be**

Dean had managed to get Sam onto the couch and he sat heavily down on the decaying recliner. He didn't know how long he had been motionless, staring at Sam, until John came into the room.

"What's wrong with him?" John looked over Sam.

"I don't really know. Joshua said that his body separated from his spirit so they could give him the test," Dean sighed.

"Sounds dangerous," Dawn had never been more comfortable with the situation before. He had no idea what was going on, and Bobby had been floundering to find out more about the test to become a guardian angel.

"Yeah, it sounds like he's risking his life for no reason." Dean bristled, trying to come to terms with why Sam would take such a risk.

"No reason, huh? That what you say about everyone who's willing to die to protect you?" John's eyes pierced his sons.

If that's what you feel, then I was wrong to think that you deserve him."

"But I don't, that's the thing! I don't deserve Sam? He's given me his trust without second thought, and as soon as he hears I am in the smallest amount of danger, he goes off out of his way to try to find a way to protect me, even if it might cost him his life!" Dean wavered in his self-loathing, "I've never felt so god damn unworthy in my life... so confused..."

John squeezed some shoulder before pulling Dean into a shortcut.

"It doesn't take a genius to figure out this one, Dean," John said as he pulled back.

"What?"

"He loves you, you ungrateful bastard. Get your head out of your ass and you'll see it too." John raised an eyebrow at Dean.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Dean nearly whispered, running his hands roughly through his short hair and falling back against the worn cushions of the chair. He looked back at Sam, who was still breathing softly as if asleep, and hope to God that Sam was stronger than any dumb test that the demented Angels could dream up.

XXX Two Hours Later XXX

Both John and Bobby took turns keeping vigil over Dean and Sam. Sam had not stirred, and Dean would not move until Sam woke up. He wouldn't accept anything except beer, and even that he drank sparingly. Bobby and John eventually went down the local bar together, where Bobby had promised to meet a contact for more information regarding Azazel's whereabouts and hopefully, the details of his plans for Dean.

But Sam surprised him, even with Dean watching with unwavering eyes, when he shot up like a bullet from a rifle. His calm breathing was instantly changed into great heaping gasps for air, as if he had been this close to drowning. His hand slapped over his bare chest and he looked down as if to affirm that he was real or not. After he seemed to establish his sense of reality, he fell back onto the couch.

"_Jesus_," he huffed. "Never want to do that again,"

"Sam?" Dean asked, reaching out tentatively, afraid to touch his shoulder and see the other reel back from the contact.

"I'll be alright," Sam said, and opened his eyes to look at Dean. Dean's own eyes widened.

Sam's irises had become an icy blue so piercing that it made Dean wonder if Sam was possessed or a higher being. Never had he felt before that Sam was angel-like in any conventional term, but those new eyes startled him into believing that Sam was born from another angel, if only for a moment.

"Your eyes… they changed," was all Dean could manage due to his shock.

"Yeah?" Sam asked, looking around the room before running to the half bath in the hall. He was just as surprised as Dean was at the difference, almost horrified until he noticed that the aqua coloring was slowly bleeding away, and he saw the complicated array of his normal hazel.

"So, does this mean that you passed?" Dean had walked up behind Sam while the brunette was staring in the mirror.

"I have no idea…" Sam breathed out, before turning back to Dean and kissing the daylights out of the man. "But I've wanted to do that for a while,"

That got a wry chuckle out of Dean, and they both headed back to the living room. Sam felt the presence of two other familiar angels appear outside the house, and he told Dean to follow him.

Joshua and Uriel stood not two feet from the wooden porch, looking as drab as ever.

"The test has been finished," Joshua said, "And you have made it back to your physical body. We are here to tell you of what has been witnessed from your actions during your examination,"

Sam nodded, waiting.

"I observed that you did not follow my orders, young half breed," Uriel bluntly accused, looking Sam in the eye for what seemed like the first time.

"My orders conflicted with my true purpose," Sam defiantly argued, "You said to protect my charge without fail, and I did so,"

"But at the cost of four angel's lives, including your own," Uriel pointed out. Dean looked at Sam, highly confused and vaguely sure that Sam had done something both stupid and totally Dean-like. It made him want to smile.

"It was the angels that were trying to kill him, I just did what my instincts told me to. What I felt was the right choice. It doesn't matter who it is trying to inflict harm on Dean and it does not matter what the cost is, I just have to protect him. Isn't that the real job of a Guardian? Especially seeing as you don't even know if all the angels are on board with the whole stopping the apocalypse thing,"

Uriel sneered, "That is correct. You showed that you could sacrifice yourself and any other that wished to do harm to your charge. And as much as it grieves me to say this…You completed the test, and are now worthy to be a Guardian."

Sam smirked, pleased, but not too happy to be of any real standing with the angels or his father.

"This is now yours, Samuel Hawk," Joshua produced what looked like a silver handled spear tip that glinted in the afternoon sun. "It is the weapon of a Guardian, use it with caution and wisdom, as well as with skill and unwavering strength to protect your charge, no matter what the situation may be," Sam stepped up to Joshua and grasped the weapon gingerly, trying to get used to it.

"May the Lord bless your mission and travels, Sam." Joshua intoned.

"Because you are going to need as much help as you can attain," Uriel smiled, wholly snarky.

Before Sam could retaliate with a pointed comment of his own, Uriel was knocked aback by Dean's fist. It took all three angels by surprise, and Uriel's eyes shot like acid at Dean's angry expression.

"I'm sick of your constant jackass bullshit, Uriel. It's sad that even a _half breed_ like Sam has better reserve than you." Dean snarled, "You'd think that an angel would know better,"

"Insolent human-" Uriel tried to advance on Dean, but Sam was already standing in front of him.

"Uriel, it is time for us to go," Joshua said, not even scolding Dean. Uriel glared at Dean and then Sam in turn before they left without another word.

"For someone who's not supposed to have emotions or be a chick, I'd say that Uriel was PMSing." Dean shook his head.

Sam laughed, "He's just proud, and that comes from centuries of human hatred. But yeah, you'd think he'd learned by now, huh?"

"I just say good riddance and pray that we don't have to see him again, ever," Dean smiled at Sam. He looked over the spearhead, and whistled. "Not a bad little trinket you got yourself there,"

"I like it too," Sam held it firmly, "I just hope it'll come in handy,"

"We'll have to find out," Dean smirked, "My guardian angel,"

Sam groaned, "This whole situation's beginning to sound like a trashy dime-store romance novel. You're going to milk that for all it's worth and then some, aren't you?"

"Wouldn't be me if I didn't," Dean laughed, "But it has some fun possibilities…"

"Why do I suddenly feel like your kinky angel boy toy?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Cause you have wings and you're all mine, which I don't hear you complaining about," Dean's eyes were afire with mischievous intent as he groped Sam's ass and winked at him. Sam shared a similar playfulness and chased after Dean into the house for a little 'reunion' party time.


	9. Chapter 9: The Highway to Desrtuction

**Chapter Nine: Rolling on the Highway to Destruction**

The next morning went without angelic visitors, and Dean and Sam prepared to make the journey to meet Ava, the closest person that they knew to have had the same ritual as Dean. It was easy to forget how much danger that they were in with the thoroughly sated mood that last night had left them in. But as Sam gazed at the sigil that he had carved into the wall to ward off angels from the house, he sighed, knowing that he would have to come to terms with what he now was and the consequences that came with it.

Bobby and John were in the study when he knocked tentatively on the door. He had been resting so deeply the night before that Dean had said that he slept right through their arrival home.

"Come in," Bobby said.

Sam walked into the room and fought not to shove his hands into his jean pockets.

"You doin' alright? I heard you passed the test." John stared up the conversation.

"Yeah, I just needed to sleep. It was intense, to say the least." Sam smiled wryly. "Are you staying to look for Azazel?"

John nodded, "I figure that if I can find him, we can avoid this whole mess before it starts,"

Even Sam knew that John knew it was a fool hearty attempt, it didn't matter if they dispatched with Azazel. There would just be another to replace him, possibly stronger too.

But Sam nodded back. "Well, I was just thinking about the whole angel ordeal and I can't really get over the fact that some of the angels might be working against us. So..." Sam breathed deeply, and held out his open palm. A wide silver dagger, not unlike the weapon that he now owned as a Guardian, appeared.

Sam grasped the blade with his left hand and presented the handle to John.

Dean's father stared at it. Bobby raised an eyebrow.

"And this is…?" John asked.

"One of the only weapons that can kill an angel. Works on demons too."

Bobby got up from behind the desk and took the knife gingerly in his hands. The metal was smooth and cold, and did not warm from the skin contact at all.

"I didn't want to leave without giving you something other than the wards," Sam looked sad and sheepish.

"Won't you get in trouble for this?" Bobby asked, not taking his eyes off the weapon.

"Well, my mother gave that to me, and Joshua gave it to her…so I really don't know or care," Sam shook his head, "It's not like I have a reputation to keep. Just don't go around killing angels that don't try to hurt you first."

Bobby and John smiled, but agreed seriously.

"Thank you,"

"You're welcome. We're about ready to head out now…"

"SAM!!" Dean's voice yelled out.

"And that's my queue. Sorry for the trouble I've caused." Sam's sheepish look was added by the faintest of blushes on his neck and face.

"Don't you worry about that. Knowing the Winchesters is not all that different from knowing the Hawk family, apparently," Sam laughed when John rolled his eyes at Bobby's ribbing comment.

"I'll take care of this," Bobby held up the dagger.

"Nah, keep it. I never needed it before and I have a new weapon now," Sam waved goodbye and laughed again at Dean's shouting from the car outside.

Bobby shook his head. "If your boy don't end up marrying Sam, I'm gonna have his head examined."

John smiled, "Don't think he could have found anyone better…same for Sam,"

"Yeah, they're a lethal duo."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Damn. And I was hoping that we might've actually been able to meet with her today." Dean shifted under the covers.

"You started it," Sam said, teasingly. Really, they were here in Boston to warm Ava, maybe set up a few defenses. It wasn't their fault that their libidos wouldn't let them leave the hotel room when they got there at four in the afternoon. Of course…it was nearing ten o'clock now…

"You're supposed to be the responsible one. It's not fair that you look fucking sexy all the time. Those stupid jeans you wear should be illegal." Dean groaned.

"Me, the 'responsible one'? We're in trouble if you think that." Sam chuckled, "You're not so easily resistible yourself,"

Dean sighed dramatically, "The curse of being a Winchester,"

"Yeah…Bobby warned me about that," Sam smirked, "Ellen too."

"What?" Dean's eyes widened jokingly, "Why do I get to be the bad guy in this? No one warned me about you…"

"It's probably because they think that you're the top," Sam laughed.

"Hey! I do top, just as much as you!" Dean pinned Sam on the mattress, laughing along with him, and nipped Sam's neck in retaliation.

"Hmm," Sam tilted his chin up as Dean continued his 'attack'. "Prove it then,"

Dean grinned when Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders. He leaned in and roughly captured Sam's mouth as he slipped a hand into Sam's hair. Dean's fingertips skimmed down Sam's chest, almost touching the skin and feeling it rise into goose bumps, making Sam writhe under him. He ran his nails over Sam's neck as his other hand slid under Sam and massaged Sam's left buttock, teasing the hole with the pads of his fingers.

Sam moaned and moved into the mixed sensations that Dean always enjoyed to play on his body. The older man was skilled enough to completely distract him from when Dean opened the tube until a slippery finger worked its way inside of him. Dean sucked on his neck, leaving Sam's lips free to gasp and make all those delicious noises. By the time Dean had three fingers working into Sam; Sam was arching and begging with bruising grips on Dean's arms.

"Fucking _tease_," He puffed out, "Dean... come on, I'm more than ready…_nnnn_," He hated and loved the way Dean knew his erogenous zones so well.

Dean bit down on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, chuckling. "You're just too sexy like this. I wanna see you cum with just my fingers up your ass, wanna make you scream. You telling me that you don't wanna cum?"

"_Dean_… you bastard," Sam grit his teeth, trying not to give Dean the satisfaction of hearing him moan. "I wanna cum with you. Wanna feel you pound into me; leave marks from holding me so hard as you lose control," Sam growled lowly, "You telling me that you don't want that?"

Dean groaned as his eyes darkened further. It was like the best fucking wet dream ever, his beautiful angel with such a filthy mouth, pleading to be fucked into oblivion. He pulled his fingers out and pinned Sam to the bed with his other hand as he slicked himself quickly. Sam's legs spread and tucked themselves around Dean's waist, a wanton abandon blowing his hazel coloring almost black with lust as Dean pushed all the way into him with one thrust. Sam's head was thrown back as Dean started with a rough pace, not even having to struggle to find Sam's prostate.

Dean had Sam by the hips, keeping up his tempo without too much effort. The need to be harder, faster, _deeper_ overwhelmed him, and he pushed Sam's legs up on his shoulders. Sam's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he let loose a sinful groan and gripped the sheets roughly. It wasn't long before every stroke made him see white, and he came with Dean's hand wrapped around his cock, nearly screaming.

Dean slammed in harder as Sam tightened impossibly vise-like on him, moaning loudly as he buried himself a final time and came, feeling ready to black out with the incredible force of his orgasm. They breathed in harsh tandem together, regaining their minds slowly as they rode the aftershock of oh-so-fucking-amazing sex.

Dean fell next to Sam after he pulled out, a wistful smile in place. He looked over to his angelic lover and said, with all the tact of a sailor,

"I fucking _rock_ as top, sweetheart, don't you ever doubt _that_,"

Sam could only nod and laugh breathlessly, "Goof. I never said that you didn't. Everyone should bow to your toppy greatness, oh homo sex god,"

He laughed harder as Dean puffed up his chest and smacked him with a pillow before they burrowed into each other's embrace, sated and ridiculously peaceful.


	10. Chapter 10: Found

**Chapter Ten: Found**

Meeting Ava was a strange experience. She was glad to see team, happy to thank him again for a ridding the old hotel on her block, that spirit. But the fact that he had come back to her at all with a supernatural cause unsettles her, especially with the protection charms they gave her and wards they set up in her home.

The other reason it was strained with her obvious inclination toward Sam. It would have been comical if Dean weren't such a possessive bastard, but alas...

"Are you sure you won't stay for dinner?" Ava asked again, practically begging on her knees. It looked like she would actually have tried that if she thought for a second that it might work in her favor.

"We have to be in the next state by the end of today. I'm sorry," Sam smiled apologetically, but Dean saw that his eyes were showing anything but remorse.

"Oh well, if you're ever in town again..."

"We'll make sure to drop by," Dean smiled at the emphasis Sam put on 'we'. They were out the door two minutes later, settling back into the Impala. Dean didn't know whether to be teasing Sam or insanely jealous that Ava was so flirtatious with him.

"You looked like you were ready to strangle her," Sam snickered.

"If she kept touching you, I was gonna," Well, jealousy had obviously won out...

"So..." Sam began.

"What?"

"Have I ever told you that you look fucking sexy when you're jealous?" Sam leaned over, nipping at Dean's ear and neck.

"Don't tell me that was the only... mmm... reason that we stayed in there so long?" Dean tried to stay mad, really he did.

"Yeah, otherwise I would have run out as soon as she thanked us the first time," Sam pulled back slightly, kissing Dean fully. "It was just such a turn on to see you glare at her like that,"

"You're getting back at me for that demon in West Hens, aren't you?" Dean frowned, then smirked, "It's not my fault that he thought I was hot,"

"Just drive already," Sam glared.

"All right," Dean laughed, relieved that they were getting away from Ava. It was so easy to forget this very situation when they joked together like this.

Andy Tusal was their second person to check up on. Dean was actually dreading going to meet the guy, because after...

What else were they going to do? Wait patiently and play "Where's Azazel?" until the elusive bastard decided to show his ugly mug?

Of course, neither Sam nor Dean expected what was going to happen next...

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

And he rented an apartment in the skirts of the city on Thyme Street, though his girlfriend had had to use some heavy persuasive methods in order to get him to move out of that ridiculous van. Which he refused to give up.

Dean parked in the covert structure next to the apartment complex. They walked quietly to door number 56, Sam wondering if there would be more jealousy issues that they would bicker over with this handy. From the way Dean described him on the drive over, it didn't seem too likely.

They knocked and waited for in an answer for a few minutes before Sam unlocked it with his 'angel awesomeness,' as Dean had jokingly called Sam's powers when he was drunk.

There was silence inside, and they decided they would wait until the 22-year-old returned. Not half an hour later, when they were contemplating the merits of utilizing Andy's bedroom in his absence, (only half seriously) the black haired short man opened the door.

He started as soon as he turned around and his eyes landed on Dean, "Geez! You could have told me you were coming! What if Rachel had been here?"

"Relax, she's not a she?" Dean rolled his eyes, "it's not like I'm going to spill the beans to a chick that I spent two minutes with a year ago."

"Still, why is it here?" Andy's eyes fell on Sam, "shouldn't you be off hunting or something?"

Dean brows furrowed as he watched Sam and Andy glare at each other. "All right, what's got your panties in a twist, Andy? Last time I was here you nearly begged me to stay and keep out all the monsters that might be under your bed."

"Who is he?" And he ignored Dean's comment, and that only made the Winchester more wary. Andy was hardly single-minded about anything, and had the attention span of an ADD gnat.

"His name's Sam." Dean said flatly, "Andy."

"What Russian market" Dean waited until the black haired shorty looked at him.

"Christo,"

A muscle twitch in Andy's cheek, and his eyes flashed yellow.

"You're not a very good actor, Azazel," Dean and Sam were on their feet 2 seconds later.

"Don't really plan on winning an Oscar, but it worked long enough to distract you," Azazel smiled grossly, overly pleased with how the situation turned out. Demon possessed humans seemed to appear out of the air and they held Sam down against the couch while they pinned Dean on a nearby wall.

"Good idea, leaving the safe house to try and save Ava and Andy, Dean. We weren't even after them." Azazel chuckles as they struggled, "they were failed attempts to find a soul compatible for the ritual. But nice try."

"Fuck off," Dean growled, ever the eloquent one.

"Maybe another day, but now that I've caught you I think I've earned some bragging rights." He thrust his victory in Dean's face.

"Who says you've caught him?"

Sam had knocked back both the demons holding him down and hit the demon holding being psychically present. He tossed Dean the blessed knife and they went after the remaining too quickly. Azazel watched almost this interestedly until they came after him, and he left Andy's body before they could get too close.

Breathing hard in excitement of the hunting kind, they plopped Andy on the couch after they checked his pulse. They ran to the Impala and warned Bobby and John to watch out on the phone, telling the older men they were on their way back to South Dakota as quickly as they possibly could. Dean had the Chevy powering down the highway at nearly 100 miles an hour, and still didn't think it was fast enough, considering that they literally had hell on their heels. Would Bobby's even be safe anymore? Neither he nor Sam wanted to think like that, but –

"DEAN, ON THE LEFT!"

_Too late_, Dean thought as the navy blue SUV slammed into the Impala and crashed them into the railing off of the highway. Dean saw black eyes things surround the car as they struggled in the last vestiges of consciousness.


	11. Chapter 11: Demonic Debacle

**Author's Note:**

**Hey all! Just wanted to say that I made a banner for this story, if you wanna see it. It's on my LiveJournal account, just look for the link on my profile.**

**Enjoy the next segment!**

**Chapter Eleven: Demonic Debacle**

Morning grogginess never went well with a headache that made Dean's skull feel like two rams were using it for target practice. Dean was wondering what he must have been drinking to get a headache that bad. He didn't remember going to any bars, just waiting for Andy to get home –

Wait.

Memories of obsidian eyes and panic and the crash came hurtling back into his mind, and Dean's pain was forgotten in the face of their reminders. Sam and he were in danger. He sat up quickly, feeling stiff and cold from the concrete flooring. Groaning and rubbing his eyes, he tried to look around him. It was a small, dark, damp room, not more than eight feet in any direction. There was an oil lamp mounted on the wall, the only source of light. He was alone.

Dean backed himself slowly to the nearest wall, pushing himself to his feet and using it for support. He didn't think there was any merit to checking the door to see if it was indeed locked, but he did it anyway. The thick oak door did not budge.

Fantastic.

Dean's ribs and shoulder were inflamed and annoyingly sore – he was sure that one or two of his lower ribs were cracked. So, charging at the door was out. He afforded the offensive wood blockage with five or six hard, jarring kicks before he quit and decided that he didn't want to make anymore noise to alert his captures. The door did not even creak under his punishing blows.

"Mother fucker," he muttered darkly, settling down into the corner nearest the door. He knew that he didn't exactly have the strength to really make a surprise attack worth the effort, or of any kind, but at least here he would see who came in before they saw him.

He sat there and lost track of time, drifting in and out of consciousness out of boredom worry, tiredness, and numbing pain. It had to have been at least two hours after he woke up when the door finally screeched open.

Feet shuffled in (Dean could make out two pairs of hard-soled shoes) and black eyes fell on him. The malicious depths churned in the lamp light and Dean sneered at the amusement they found in his wounded state. Their smug expressions told him everything he never wanted to know, or admit to: they had Sam and him under control and there was not anything they could really do about it.

Fuck that.

He did not know how injured Sam was, but the angel would not be held back forever. It made his hunter instincts boil over in frustration and general wrongness. He had been taught never to rely on anyone else to save his sorry ass, not even his own father, because most of the time it wasn't possible or an even sane decision to make. Sam was his guardian angel, though, whatever small difference that made, and he really was in no position to help himself at all. He had to trust in Sam.

After all, it was his soul in danger.

"Get up," the demon on the right commanded.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam came to feeling as shitty as Dean had. The difference with his situation, however, was that someone had removed his shirt and chained him up.

Joy.

The restraints allowed him to sit on the freezing ground, but his arms were achingly locked above his head. The chains were strung from the high wooden arch on the ceiling of the building. He was leaning against a pillar made of the same dark, heavy wood that was next to the pews that were splintering and bulging with molding water spots.

Huh. An old church.

Could his life _be _anymore Hollywood?

But that made Dean the damsel in distress… He shook his head. Those were role playing fantasies that could get his ass kicked another time.

Though he was weak and bruised, he still tried the chains. The wood above him did not even groan under his pull, the chains clinking and shuddering loudly, echoing in the large hall, but no dice. From what he could hear and feel, he was alone in the room.

Dean was not with him, but he was alive, awake, and close. It felt like… Dean was under him?

Tapping his booted heel on the ground, he checked to see that the tiles were solid, like cement was their base. Breaking through the floor was out…

He was contemplating whether or not dislocating his thumbs would make a difference in escaping the binds when the side door banged open. One demon (possessing a red-headed tall man) was followed by two others, obviously grunts that led a wearied Dean in by his arms, which were tied behind his back. They forced Dean to his knees in front of the rosewood altar, and the demon that was in control of the others looked to Sam, and his eyes were yellow.

"So, Sammy-boy," he smiled broadly, "How's it feel to be a failure?"

Sam looked pointedly at Dean, who was fuming, but unable to get away.

"Dean's still kicking. I don't see the problem," Sam raised a sarcastic eyebrow, trying to keep calm.

"He won't be for much longer. Admit it, there's nothing you can do to stop the ritual now," Azazel smirked.

"It ain't over till the ugly-ass Hell King sings," Dean quipped, and was punched for his trouble.

Azazel laughed, "It will be soon,"

And the ritual began.

Azazel drew a circle of blood around Dean, with no other intricacies. On the wood altar, he painted the complicated symbols and caricatures of a language long forgotten and unreadable even to him, but their purpose was known. He stood to the side, and the two demonic goons attached a set of manacled chains to the altar and Dean's wrists. Dean, again, struggled, but he was too weak and in pain to do anything but gain a few mocking chuckles for it. Then Azazel produced an old scrap of parchment and began to read.

By the second line of the incantation, the building began to _groan_, as if it were under some huge pressure. Sometime during the fifth line, the air around them cooled rapidly, charging with a strange and ancient energy and it felt as if the church itself were breathing. A sulfurous breath of toxic air filling the space, making it difficult to think and Sam felt sick. Azazel's voice was reaching a crescendo, and it was as if Sam were being choked, there was so much power permeating from the spell, from Dean's _soul_.

He knew he had to act fast. Dean, from what he could see, was slumped forward and shuddering. Sam felt more than knew that the spell would be finished soon. He concentrated. The chains holding him rubbed his wrists and the links shook under his force. His physical weakness was inhibiting him, but he pushed past his body's limits.

The chain's link's snapped.

Sam threw himself forward as Azazel was closing the final two lines of the verse. He summoned his weapon out of instinct and slashed the first demon's throat and stabbed the other in the gut in a flurry of graceful motion. The magic's tension that had built as Azazel read finally burst and became visible: hundreds navy-black smoke-like tendrils swarming and engulfing Dean's form. Dean gave a fierce shout of pain and surprise, resisting the chains more forcefully than before.

Sam was almost thrown back as the dark immense power pulsed and whipped around him. The half-angel made his feet move, forcing himself into the circle as the black-magic repelled his naturally light spirit. The pain was like his soul was being ripped asunder, like Dean's essence was being drawn from his body. The foggy cloud that encased Dean was constricting and coaxing the stubborn soul from its physical form, as a side effect from sucking the power that was held with it.

Sam finally reached Dean, struggling to gain a hold of him in the impossible, close distance between them. He saw Dean's eyes roll back into his head as Sam wrapped his arms around Dean. It was the most terrifying, heart-wrenching and sickening experience in the world, in all of time, to feel Dean's life slipping through his desperate embrace.

_No...!_ His mind scrambled for a solution, a method to cease the chaos. He felt his angelic energy center within him, pool behind his shoulder blades, and knew what needed to be done.

Sam's wings emerged from his back, wrapping around them both. They glowed like soft moonlight at first, increasing their brightness in waves and Sam closed his eyes. He did not know what happened next, but he felt Dean's soul secure itself and settle back into his body. The spell still worked, stealing the energy that Dean's matured spirit held, but it would not kill him. The magic emanating from the spell and Sam's impromptu intervention died down abruptly, leaving the church, and seemingly the universe, devoid of everything.

Dean breathed steadily in his arms.

Sam, in contrast, felt out of breath and dazed, looking around him and not knowing what to expect. It was unearthly silent. His eyes fell on Azazel.

"You may not have failed in protecting Dean, Sammy, but what about all the other humans you have let down by not killing him?" Azazel smiled widely.

Sam could hardly glare at the snide demon.

The altar, otherwise unmoved, cracked in two. Grayish smog rolled in from the abrasion, dusting the floor in impenetrable haze. Azazel started to stalk toward Sam and the unconscious Dean, and Sam clutched his angelic knife-dagger. He didn't want to leave Dean. He desperately wanted to rip Azazel to shreds. His body wanted to wilt under all the strain.

The gray smoke began to mix with black essences, and demons were pouring out. A portal to hell had been torn open.

"Sam," A voice behind the madness called. In Sam's peripheral vision, he saw Castiel. Without pause, he picked Dean up in his arms and used some of his power and Azazel's momentary distraction to shove the demon back onto his ass. He hurried over to the other angel and shoved Dean into his arms.

"Take him out of here. He could still be useful to them. I will kill Azazel, try to contain the demons, and follow."

Castiel held Dean effortlessly, and by the look in the man's usually emotionless eyes, he knew that Sam did not mean the last part of his promise.

"May your battle be swift and serve the Lord," Castiel said, inclining his head. It was a warrior's prayer, given in times of uncertainty.

"May the Lord bless you as well," Sam grasped the man's arm tightly, and gazed down at Dean once again. Sam turned back to where Azazel was standing, and felt Castiel take Dean to safety. He was alone.

He used his power again, setting a devil's trap around the church without a second thought. It was weighing on his mind and spirit, but he forced himself forward. He didn't stand a chance against the high-level demon, but he did get a few good shots in before he was pinned beneath the other.

Sam stared at the pair of leather shoes before looking up at the man kneel in front of him.

Icy blue eyes shone with mirth as they looked down on Sam under Azazel's hold, but his full mouth was unsmiling.

Sam's vision tunneled.

"Lucifer," he said, succumbing to the dark dreamless sleep from over strain.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX **


	12. Chapter 12: The Search & Serious Savior

**Chapter Twelve: The Search and Serious Savior**

Dean woke up on a couch in Bobby's living room. Drowsy and aching, he groaned and stretched before he heard the raised voices coming from Bobby's study.

"We need to ask what happened-"

"You mean ask why Dean's still alive even though the ritual was completed?" his father growled. "I want to know how you let it get this far, you bastard. You interfere with their lives non-stop for weeks and then leave them high and dry when they actually need help! Now they have Sam, _your son_, and you could care less."

"He's an angel, with more power now that he is a guardian; we thought that he could have fended off a few demons-"

"He's a half-angel who had half of hell chasing after his lover and somehow, against all odds, managed to save Dean even though Lucifer rose." Bobby interrupted this time, "Now what are we going to do to save him?"

"I cannot sense him anymore, but somehow he feels so close..." Joshua sounded confused.

"What the hell happened?" Dean demanded from the doorway, and all attention snapped to him.

"You were captured. Do you remember?" John said.

"Yeah, I remember being trapped in a room all busted up.... but now my ribs feel fine." Dean rubbed his side, "Not really any thing after that, though..."

"They were able to summon Lucifer, using you." Castiel spoke up from the other side of the room, "I got there just in time before Azazel attacked you and Sam, and Sam told me to take you and protect you. He stayed behind to keep Azazel from following us."

"And now you can't find him. Why?" It was Dean's turn to growl, having guessed that much from eavesdropping.

"Because to save you, he gave up his Grace."

Dean's eyes flew to Joshua, who was inspecting Dean in a calculating gaze. "What?"

Joshua actually looked pained, "In order to keep your soul from leaving your body as it would have if unchecked, he countered the pull of the spell's power by giving his Grace to you. That's the way you were able to survive and why you are healed now."

Dean stood there, horror-stricken. Sam had... given up his power to save him. He had done everything to protect Dean and keep his promise to not let the demons take him.

And now the demons had him in their grasp, virtually weaponless, as their new plaything. He had seen the look that Azazel had given Sam the first time in the warehouse, and knew that Sam was in about the worst place he could possibly be.

"Do you have any idea what they're going to do to him?! Why are you just standing here? Stop waiting and do whatever you have to to find him-" Dean paused in his fuming, looking Josh in the eye. "Never mind. You obviously don't care all that much about your own son to stop arguing about stupid shit. I'm going to find him." Dean turned away, calling behind him, "Bobby, where'd you put that weird ass voodoo book?"

John and Bobby rushed up behind him. "It's still in my truck. I'll get it." John said to the both of them before running to attain it.

"We're going to need all the help we can get. Dad has the Colt and we know enough about demons to deal with them, but how are we going to deal with the fucking devil?" Dean growled, going up to a book shelf in the library with Bobby at his side.

"Sam gave us a dagger that can kill angels. I don't know what use it would be against Lucifer, but it's something at least."

"Good. Let's get all we can together that can help. Any rituals or symbols that can send the fuckers to hell faster than a devil's trap?" Dean asked.

"Not that I can think of, but I have an idea of what we can do once we know where Sam is..." Bobby talked on, and Dean listened. His focus would never be as sharp as it would be in the next fifty hours.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After consulting both a strange looking pendulum _and_ an Ouija board, they were given a location in Alabama, of all places. What made that difficult was that it was in the middle of a large, bustling city, so a sneak attack was either impossible or expected, most likely both. The weird thing was that it the trackers showed them that Sam was in the middle of a city square, and that just didn't sound right.

"Underground?" John suggested, and Bobby nodded tersely, not wanting it to be true.

"They do have a pretty expansive sewer level," he sighed, "Do we want to call any other hunters in on this?"

"You shouldn't," A woman's voice said called from the doorway to the study. They turned their attention momentarily to the red-headed woman, who was leaning on the frame causally.

"Who are you?" Dean glared, annoyed at the distraction.

"Anna, another angel," She said. "And you really shouldn't call any others in this time, that's exactly what the demons are hoping for: a small war, or bloodbath, if you're not careful."

"And you're here because...?" Dean trailed off, waiting for an answer.

"Because Sam is a good person, and my friend." Anna inclined her head. "He doesn't deserve to be left to the dogs,"

"Nice to know we have one of you on our side," Bobby groused before Dean could say anything else.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't there with Castiel earlier," Anna apologized.

"But we're both here now," Castiel appeared behind her. "And we do know enough about demons and battles to be helpful."

Once he saw that Cas was there, Dean deflated some. Sam had said that these two were his friends, and it really would be a dumb-ass move to reject their offer.

"Good, tell us what else we can do to prepare and then we'll leave as soon as possible," Dean accepted and turned back to the pile of opened books on the desk, hearing the angels shuffle around and they all began to plan in a style reminiscent of all the generals and conspirators of history.


	13. Chapter 13: Found A Way To You

**Chapter Thirteen: Found A Way To You**

So three hunters and two angels walk into a bar...

No, it's not a joke, its Dean's current predicament.

After a long drive to the city, they all were tired and strung out, looking for a quick way to relax. Even Cas and Anna seemed twitchy, and Dean thought that the perfect way to release some tension was to get tipsy. And maybe find some drunken brawl to get in the middle of...

Dean knew it was wistful thinking to believe he could get involved in some mindless violence to shake the feelings of guilt from his gut, but it was how he normally vented. That wasn't really possible this time; he needed to be in top shape for saving Sam. He could ignore the grief for the time being...

Okay, okay, so his dad and Bobby had to stop him from starting a fight, but could you really blame a guy for trying? By the looks on all of the faces around him in the motel room in the morning as he took two aspirin, you could. After their little glare-at-Dean fest, thankfully, they started to work out a plan.

The thing was, Lucifer wasn't exactly hiding his presence. Why would he? The fucker probably had enough power to spare that he didn't have to worry about anybody coming after him. He was in an underground garage that belonged to an abandoned building just outside the city, and that posed as many problems as it did blessings.

Good thing: it was out of the city, which meant less chance of civilian involvement and should things go horribly wrong and they needed to say, blow up the entire compound, they could with minimal chaos.

Bad thing: if they died, who the hell would notice?

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam was strung up by his arms again, only this time, he was surrounded by holy fire that surprisingly worked even on a half-angel. He filed that away in his thoughts as another thing for him to be wary of should he escape from the Devil.

Yeah, that sounded about as impossible as it was… and then some. He had already tried to free himself, but with the amount of power he had expended to save Dean, it really was as useless as banging his head against an iron wall. He considered himself lucky just to be left alone by this point; he had figured that Azazel or any number of demons would have already been in the room he was held, competing for the best method to make him scream the loudest.

So Sam was definitely happy to be left alone.

Of course, it was at the tail end of this thought that Lucifer had to walk through the door.

"Samuel Hawk," Lucifer said, beauty and grace and song purring over Sam's form, a feel of an angel's power that Sam had never been subjected to before. "Such a majestic creature as you, even half human, should not be named from such a lowly creature,"

"I'm fine with the comparison, thanks," Sam almost rolled his eyes at the Archangel's attempt to flatter him, "Hawks are near perfect hunters,"

"Hunters of vermin, to be sure," Lucifer practically smirked, "Easily taken down or captured by such pathetic things as humans,"

"What do you want?" Sam shook his head, not really believing the conversation that they were having. At a time like this…

"A perfect Eden," Lucifer said, drawing closer, "The eradication of all humans and animals so that I can rebuild this beautiful world to what it should have been: A home to all angels,"

"I don't think the demons are going to be happy about the light show up here," Sam raised his brow, "And hell, how do you know that any angel would actually follow your plan? They all seem pretty gung-ho to have your ass blown to oblivion,"

"Not all…" Lucifer said, smiling slightly for the first time, "But don't you worry yourself about them. You never wanted to be a part of the Host, not even when the choice was offered to you. As for the demons… when they have served their purpose, I will no longer have any use for them,"

"I take it they don't fit in with your idea of the 'perfect world', now do they?" Sam chuckled bitterly. He would have felt sorry for them, had the demons not been so easily manipulated… or evil in the first place.

"Not in the slightest," Lucifer cocked his head, an expression of contemplation shadowing his features as he looked carefully into Sam's eyes. "You are powerful, even as a half angel Sam. You would be more than welcome to share in the new world. Where you belong, with your true family,"

Sam's eyes flashed in anger and budding power, but the holy fire prevented any release, letting it simmer within and burn behind his eyes. "The only family I had died months ago. If anybody is going to take their place, it will be Dean and the other hunters. The angel have betrayed me one too many times," He growled out.

"I can understand your feelings," Lucifer conceded. Sam huffed an indignant breath, begging to differ. The other turned away, knowing now that there was no chance of converting Sam if the half-breed still had inclinations toward humans. Just before he walked out again, he said, "I hope that Dean and all those other humans are worth the pain you're about to experience,"

The door opened again as he strode out, revealing Azazel and three other demons who grinned maliciously when Lucifer nodded toward them.

Sam wondered if there was any point in trying to convince them that Lucifer was planning to kill them in the very near future, but closed his eyes instead when he saw the table full of knives and chemicals roll in with the demons.

He had a feeling it was going to be a long night. _I guess they're going to torture me after all…_ he thought.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The demons all seemed to be inside this time, no guards were flanking the building at all, not in the three checks they ran around the building. Castiel and Anna both said that the presences were all grouped in the south-east corner and that Lucifer was among them. Both angels had their unique daggers held at the ready, and Bobby was holding the one Sam had given him. John had salt and an iron pipe with a rock salt gun strapped across his shoulder and a pouch full of reloads. Dean led them all in with the Colt, which he had four full rounds of ammo stashed in a satchel on his hip.

They didn't bother with sneaking in; all of them had protective charms and no way of really surprising Lucifer and the demons, but their footsteps made no noise and their breaths were measured as they attempted the impossible in spite of their handicap. The building, Dean sees a sign on a broken-hinged door, used to be a testing facility for water treatment. It certainly explained why there are so many doors and rooms, even if it is a high-ceiling one floor structure.

They search every room for any other hostages as they move, rolling out mats with devil's traps on the bottom on the floor in the middle of the hallways and in each corner. It's a pretty maze-like floor plan, but they manage to systematically block off most of the exits with sigils and traps and salt as they go. Even if they aren't able to do much to Lucifer, or if he leaves prematurely, they definitely want no demon left alive to help him again.

One hour later, and they reach a main corridor that heads to the largest room in the facility, called the Observation Lab. When Dean kicks down the double-doors without even checking the handle, they are given their first real glance at the Devil himself.

Who smiled pleasantly, like he had been awaiting dinner guests. The guy's demeanor was already starting to piss Dean off, and he had only seconds before laid eyes on him for the first time. If the smile Lucifer had offered been anything akin to devious or mocking, it wouldn't have creeped him out as much as this genuine happy grin he saw. Like Lucifer wanted them here…

"You made it," Lucifer finally said, "I was beginning to wonder if Sam meant anything to you, Dean. Almost thought you were going to leave without even attempting to save him. But you couldn't pass a chance to take a swing at me, could you?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Lucy-boy." Dean rolled his eyes, "Saving Sam is the priority, kicking your ass is just a bonus."

"Still, you really should have hurried more," Lucifer said, continuing on like Dean had never interrupted. He turned to the door at the right corner where heavy footsteps approached.

As it began to open, Anna spoke, "What do you mean-"

She was cut off when Azazel opened the door, stepping into the low light with a gray and splotchy towel in his hands, cleaning them absently. What made Anna pause was the slick fresh blood covering him up to his elbows and staining his shirt.

The yellow-eyed demon took in their new guests and smirked, looking smug. "Hey, Johnny and Dean-o have finally joined us. Won't they be happy to learn how quickly a half-angel can heal?" A scream punched through the still air through the slightly open door, male and agonizing. "You can cut in the same spot over, and over and _deeper_ every time and it still heals up," He laughed "Fuckin' _miraculous_, isn't it?"

"You've been torturing him?" Castiel looked broken, devastated at his fallen brother. "One of your own kind…"

"You're pretty low on the paid grade, angel babies; otherwise you wouldn't be so shocked. It's not like I've never tortured anyone before, or many of your brothers and sisters," Lucifer raised an eyebrow at Anna and Castiel. "I see he hasn't completely rejected his father's linage,"

A heavy, tense pause stole the human's breath away before another groaning scream filled the air.

"Let's see how much that helps Sam," Lucifer said.

The gunshot sounded flat in the close, stale-smelling room.

XXXXXXXXXX

Umm... Don't hurt me? *hides*

I know, I know, its been a long, long time since I last updated anything, let alone this one. But I am working on _all_ my unfinished stories now! I promise!

Hope you like this new chapter. Review please!


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